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rollercoasterwords · 2 years

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the tiktokification of ao3

or: some of you fundamentally misunderstand ao3 and it really, really shows

i was talking about this with a friend a few days ago and since then i've seen multiple posts of various sorts that have just made me think about it more, so. here is me breaking down a disconnect i see particularly with younger members of the marauders fandom (i say marauders specifically just bc that's the only one i'm plugged into):

okay, so i've seen many (usually younger) marauders fans either talking online about how they wish ao3 was more like social media (specifically regarding algorithms) OR talking about ao3/fanfiction/fanfic writers as if they are operating under the same etiquette/guidelines/assumptions they would bring into social media platforms. this ranges from being mildly irritating to genuinely harmful, and i want to talk abt why.

first - you have to understand that social media, in this day and age, exists in a profit economy. and when i say social media here, i'm referring to platforms like tiktok, twitter, instagram, etc. all of these platforms exist in a profit economy where content is a product that can be monetized. this leads to a few important distinctions:

people posting on these social media platforms are generally posting with the intent to get their content seen by as many people as possible, as quickly as possible

they post with this intent because once their content is consumed by enough people, it becomes a product that they can monetize

therefore, if that content gets popular enough, these people can become influencers, where content creation is an actual job and their audience are, in a sort of vague and obscured way, similar to consumers purchasing a product

because of the profit economy surrounding social media, there are certain assumptions + forms of interaction that bleed across almost all social media platforms. the ones relevant to this little essay include:

operating under the assumption that anyone posting anything on the internet wants to go viral, ie. be seen by as many people as possible as quickly as possible in order to grow an "audience"

these influencers are creating content for us, their audience, so they should want to please us. they should also be trying to appeal to the broadest possible audience. therefore, if we dislike their content, we have a right to make that very, very clear.

in that same vein, we have a general right to critique content creators, as they are making a profit and we are the consumers purchasing their product--much like you might feel entitled to a certain standard of service in a restaurant where you are paying for the food.

when you carry these assumptions over to a platform like ao3, it creates problems. why? in a nutshell: because ao3 exists outside the profit economy

ao3 is a non-profit. it does not have an algorithm because it is not trying to sell you anything. this means that the writers posting their work on ao3 are not making a profit. we are not influencers. we are not creating monetized content to sell to a consumer-audience. where consuming content on other social media platforms might be comparable to eating at a restaurant, reading fanfiction on ao3 is more like coming over to someone's house and eating cookies that they made for free. you are in their house. the cookies are free, given as a gift. so what happens when those assumptions outlined above start to bleed over from other social media?

assuming that anyone posting fanfiction online wants their work to go viral -- i've seen this with popular fic writers getting questions like, "are you worried x isn't going to be as popular as y?" those questions are usually not ill-intended, but they demonstrate a fundamental lack of understanding about why writers post work on ao3. it's not to go viral. it's not to build any sort of online following. most of us who post on ao3 have jobs or schoolwork or other commitments, and writing fanfiction is something done for fun, out of a love for writing. those sharing their work online might be seeking community, but that is fundamentally different from seeking an audience, and in no way involves internet virality. if someone is posting fanfic on ao3 with the hope that it'll "go viral," then they likely either won't continue writing fanfic for long or will reach a point where they have to re-evalute their motivations, because seeking joy and validation by turning your art into a product for consumption just isn't very sustainable.

influencers are creating content for us, so we have a right to let them know if we don't like it -- nope!! fic writers are not influencers. yes, even the popular ones. no matter how much other people might blow their work up on social media, fic writers are still outside the profit economy. they are not creating content for an audience. they are not creating content for you. they are writing because they love it, and they are generously sharing it. if you don't like it, don't interact with it. you are never entitled to loudly and publicly proclaim how much you dislike a fic. i talk about this more here

we have a general right to critique fic writers, the same way we do with content creators/influencers -- again, no. you should not be treating fic writers the way you would treat an influencer on another social media platform, no matter how popular they may be. this is not to say fic writers are beyond all reproach; rather, it is a call-in to check your entitlement. fic writers are not little jesters entertaining in your court. they are not subject to your whims. they do not have to do things for you. they do not have to write things you like. in that post i linked on point 2, i talk about what etiquette might look like if you're really concerned that a fic writer is doing something harmful, but that is not what i'm talking about here. i am talking about the proliferation of negativity i have seen, especially on twitter and tiktok, where people essentially just talk shit about fics or fic writers as though they are entitled to have those fic writers working to please them. this is gross, and it needs to stop. you wouldn't go over to someone's house, eat the cookies they baked to share, and then spit those cookies back in their face and start shouting about what a shitty baker they are. or maybe you would--in which case, congratulations! you are Not A Good Person.

anyway, at the end of the day, a lot of this can be boiled down to: Because ao3 exists outside the profit economy, fic writers are not influencers, and you should never be treating them as though they are. i think i see this disconnect largely with younger people just because they've maybe only ever really understood social media within this sort of influencer-consumer-culture economy, and genuinely don't understand how to interact differently with the internet. so, consider this post a call-in to reevaluate the way you interact with fic writers and the etiquette you use when it comes to engaging with fanfic on ao3! i promise that ao3 being different from social media is a very, very good thing, and also a very, very rare thing, so let's treasure it and focus on fostering community rather than trying to morph it to fit the mould of influencer-audience dynamics that we see almost everywhere else <3

#tldr: fic writers aren't influencers #stop acting like they are #it only creates problems!!!!#anyway if you have engaged in some of these behaviors that doesn't make u a bad person #it just means u should maybe shift ur perspective moving forward #capitalism is a lifeless desert that grows every day and ao3 is a little oasis #let's all enjoy it while we can #instead of trying to place it within a consumer economy #ranting and raving #txt

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sophsicle · 5 months

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reasons criticizing fanfics publicly is lame

lets go over this again shall we?

it is not appropriate to give constructive criticism of fanfiction unless explicitly asked by the author. lots of authors are not interested in improving their writing, they are doing this for the goofs. the laughs. the giggling-good-times. giving people constructive criticism on fanfiction is a bit like if someone gave you a home made birthday card and in front of a room full of people you began to critique it. that social awkwardness? that is what you should feel when you start criticizing fanfiction

"I don't like" is not constructive criticism. it is not critical thinking. if you use the sentence "i don't like" in an academic paper you will fail. what you like is not an objective fact. it is a feeling. which you are allowed to have but which means nothing about the object of your dislike. now, to refer to point one, even if criticism IS constructive, still not appropriate here, but the amount of people who are confusing not liking something with being critical is truly baffling.

i have said this before and i will say it again. just because you have the opportunity to do something, does not mean you are right for doing it. for example, people love to say that if you post things online then you are giving people the right to criticize it. to which i say: no. i am giving you the opportunity. the same way that when i walk out my door i give people on the street the opportunity to shout terrible things at me. that doesn't mean you aren't still an asshole for taking that opportunity. just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD do something.

assuming that fanfics should be open to criticism is treating them like published works and is treating fandom like a goods and services economy. we are not consumers consuming products, we are meant to be a community of people with similar interests sharing things. a timeless, but always relevant, metaphor for this, is that fandom is a potluck not a restaurant. you wouldn't go to a potluck and start talking about the food the way you might at a restaurant.

not 2 sound horribly naive or whatever, but maybe just be kind? like, it's not very hard. maybe just don't get on the internet and be an entitled superior asshat. idk man.

#i know this has all been said before #but i couldn't help it #and i can't fit it in a tiktok comment section so #soph rambles

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mostlysignssomeportents · 22 days

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The disenshittified internet starts with loyal "user agents"

I'm in TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (TOMORROW, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

There's one overwhelmingly common mistake that people make about enshittification: assuming that the contagion is the result of the Great Forces of History, or that it is the inevitable end-point of any kind of for-profit online world.

In other words, they class enshittification as an ideological phenomenon, rather than as a material phenomenon. Corporate leaders have always felt the impulse to enshittify their offerings, shifting value from end users, business customers and their own workers to their shareholders. The decades of largely enshittification-free online services were not the product of corporate leaders with better ideas or purer hearts. Those years were the result of constraints on the mediocre sociopaths who would trade our wellbeing and happiness for their own, constraints that forced them to act better than they do today, even if the were not any better:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Corporate leaders' moments of good leadership didn't come from morals, they came from fear. Fear that a competitor would take away a disgruntled customer or worker. Fear that a regulator would punish the company so severely that all gains from cheating would be wiped out. Fear that a rival technology – alternative clients, tracker blockers, third-party mods and plugins – would emerge that permanently severed the company's relationship with their customers. Fears that key workers in their impossible-to-replace workforce would leave for a job somewhere else rather than participate in the enshittification of the services they worked so hard to build:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

When those constraints melted away – thanks to decades of official tolerance for monopolies, which led to regulatory capture and victory over the tech workforce – the same mediocre sociopaths found themselves able to pursue their most enshittificatory impulses without fear.

The effects of this are all around us. In This Is Your Phone On Feminism, the great Maria Farrell describes how audiences at her lectures profess both love for their smartphones and mistrust for them. Farrell says, "We love our phones, but we do not trust them. And love without trust is the definition of an abusive relationship":

https://conversationalist.org/2019/09/13/feminism-explains-our-toxic-relationships-with-our-smartphones/

I (re)discovered this Farrell quote in a paper by Robin Berjon, who recently co-authored a magnificent paper with Farrell entitled "We Need to Rewild the Internet":

https://www.noemamag.com/we-need-to-rewild-the-internet/

The new Berjon paper is narrower in scope, but still packed with material examples of the way the internet goes wrong and how it can be put right. It's called "The Fiduciary Duties of User Agents":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3827421

In "Fiduciary Duties," Berjon focuses on the technical term "user agent," which is how web browsers are described in formal standards documents. This notion of a "user agent" is a holdover from a more civilized age, when technologists tried to figure out how to build a new digital space where technology served users.

A web browser that's a "user agent" is a comforting thought. An agent's job is to serve you and your interests. When you tell it to fetch a web-page, your agent should figure out how to get that page, make sense of the code that's embedded in, and render the page in a way that represents its best guess of how you'd like the page seen.

For example, the user agent might judge that you'd like it to block ads. More than half of all web users have installed ad-blockers, constituting the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Your user agent might judge that the colors on the page are outside your visual range. Maybe you're colorblind, in which case, the user agent could shift the gamut of the colors away from the colors chosen by the page's creator and into a set that suits you better:

https://dankaminsky.com/dankam/

Or maybe you (like me) have a low-vision disability that makes low-contrast type difficult to impossible to read, and maybe the page's creator is a thoughtless dolt who's chosen light grey-on-white type, or maybe they've fallen prey to the absurd urban legend that not-quite-black type is somehow more legible than actual black type:

https://uxplanet.org/basicdesign-never-use-pure-black-in-typography-36138a3327a6

The user agent is loyal to you. Even when you want something the page's creator didn't consider – even when you want something the page's creator violently objects to – your user agent acts on your behalf and delivers your desires, as best as it can.

Now – as Berjon points out – you might not know exactly what you want. Like, you know that you want the privacy guarantees of TLS (the difference between "http" and "https") but not really understand the internal cryptographic mysteries involved. Your user agent might detect evidence of shenanigans indicating that your session isn't secure, and choose not to show you the web-page you requested.

This is only superficially paradoxical. Yes, you asked your browser for a web-page. Yes, the browser defied your request and declined to show you that page. But you also asked your browser to protect you from security defects, and your browser made a judgment call and decided that security trumped delivery of the page. No paradox needed.

But of course, the person who designed your user agent/browser can't anticipate all the ways this contradiction might arise. Like, maybe you're trying to access your own website, and you know that the security problem the browser has detected is the result of your own forgetful failure to renew your site's cryptographic certificate. At that point, you can tell your browser, "Thanks for having my back, pal, but actually this time it's fine. Stand down and show me that webpage."

That's your user agent serving you, too.

User agents can be well-designed or they can be poorly made. The fact that a user agent is designed to act in accord with your desires doesn't mean that it always will. A software agent, like a human agent, is not infallible.

However – and this is the key – if a user agent thwarts your desire due to a fault, that is fundamentally different from a user agent that thwarts your desires because it is designed to serve the interests of someone else, even when that is detrimental to your own interests.

A "faithless" user agent is utterly different from a "clumsy" user agent, and faithless user agents have become the norm. Indeed, as crude early internet clients progressed in sophistication, they grew increasingly treacherous. Most non-browser tools are designed for treachery.

A smart speaker or voice assistant routes all your requests through its manufacturer's servers and uses this to build a nonconsensual surveillance dossier on you. Smart speakers and voice assistants even secretly record your speech and route it to the manufacturer's subcontractors, whether or not you're explicitly interacting with them:

https://www.sciencealert.com/creepy-new-amazon-patent-would-mean-alexa-records-everything-you-say-from-now-on

By design, apps and in-app browsers seek to thwart your preferences regarding surveillance and tracking. An app will even try to figure out if you're using a VPN to obscure your location from its maker, and snitch you out with its guess about your true location.

Mobile phones assign persistent tracking IDs to their owners and transmit them without permission (to its credit, Apple recently switch to an opt-in system for transmitting these IDs) (but to its detriment, Apple offers no opt-out from its own tracking, and actively lies about the very existence of this tracking):

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

An Android device running Chrome and sitting inert, with no user interaction, transmits location data to Google every five minutes. This is the "resting heartbeat" of surveillance for an Android device. Ask that device to do any work for you and its pulse quickens, until it is emitting a nearly continuous stream of information about your activities to Google:

https://digitalcontentnext.org/blog/2018/08/21/google-data-collection-research/

These faithless user agents both reflect and enable enshittification. The locked-down nature of the hardware and operating systems for Android and Ios devices means that manufacturers – and their business partners – have an arsenal of legal weapons they can use to block anyone who gives you a tool to modify the device's behavior. These weapons are generically referred to as "IP rights" which are, broadly speaking, the right to control the conduct of a company's critics, customers and competitors:

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

A canny tech company can design their products so that any modification that puts the user's interests above its shareholders is illegal, a violation of its copyright, patent, trademark, trade secrets, contracts, terms of service, nondisclosure, noncompete, most favored nation, or anticircumvention rights. Wrap your product in the right mix of IP, and its faithless betrayals acquire the force of law.

This is – in Jay Freeman's memorable phrase – "felony contempt of business model." While more than half of all web users have installed an ad-blocker, thus overriding the manufacturer's defaults to make their browser a more loyal agent, no app users have modified their apps with ad-blockers.

The first step of making such a blocker, reverse-engineering the app, creates criminal liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $500,000 fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in sufficient IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it (no wonder every company wants to coerce you into using its app, rather than its website).

If you know that increasing the invasiveness of the ads on your web-page could trigger mass installations of ad-blockers by your users, it becomes irrational and self-defeating to ramp up your ads' invasiveness. The possibility of interoperability acts as a constraint on tech bosses' impulse to enshittify their products.

The shift to platforms dominated by treacherous user agents – apps, mobile ecosystems, walled gardens – weakens or removes that constraint. As your ability to discipline your agent so that it serves you wanes, the temptation to turn your user agent against you grows, and enshittification follows.

This has been tacitly understood by technologists since the web's earliest days and has been reaffirmed even as enshittification increased. Berjon quotes extensively from "The Internet Is For End-Users," AKA Internet Architecture Board RFC 8890:

Defining the user agent role in standards also creates a virtuous cycle; it allows multiple implementations, allowing end users to switch between them with relatively low costs (…). This creates an incentive for implementers to consider the users' needs carefully, which are often reflected into the defining standards. The resulting ecosystem has many remaining problems, but a distinguished user agent role provides an opportunity to improve it.

And the W3C's Technical Architecture Group echoes these sentiments in "Web Platform Design Principles," which articulates a "Priority of Constituencies" that is supposed to be central to the W3C's mission:

User needs come before the needs of web page authors, which come before the needs of user agent implementors, which come before the needs of specification writers, which come before theoretical purity.

https://w3ctag.github.io/design-principles/

But the W3C's commitment to faithful agents is contingent on its own members' commitment to these principles. In 2017, the W3C finalized "EME," a standard for blocking mods that interact with streaming videos. Nominally aimed at preventing copyright infringement, EME also prevents users from choosing to add accessibility add-ons that beyond the ones the streaming service permits. These services may support closed captioning and additional narration of visual elements, but they block tools that adapt video for color-blind users or prevent strobe effects that trigger seizures in users with photosensitive epilepsy.

The fight over EME was the most contentious struggle in the W3C's history, in which the organization's leadership had to decide whether to honor the "priority of constituencies" and make a standard that allowed users to override manufacturers, or whether to facilitate the creation of faithless agents specifically designed to thwart users' desires on behalf of manufacturers:

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

This fight was settled in favor of a handful of extremely large and powerful companies, over the objections of a broad collection of smaller firms, nonprofits representing users, academics and other parties agitating for a web built on faithful agents. This coincided with the W3C's operating budget becoming entirely dependent on the very large sums its largest corporate members paid.

W3C membership is on a sliding scale, based on a member's size. Nominally, the W3C is a one-member, one-vote organization, but when a highly concentrated collection of very high-value members flex their muscles, W3C leadership seemingly perceived an existential risk to the organization, and opted to sacrifice the faithfulness of user agents in service to the anti-user priorities of its largest members.

For W3C's largest corporate members, the fight was absolutely worth it. The W3C's EME standard transformed the web, making it impossible to ship a fully featured web-browser without securing permission – and a paid license – from one of the cartel of companies that dominate the internet. In effect, Big Tech used the W3C to secure the right to decide who would compete with them in future, and how:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

Enshittification arises when the everyday mediocre sociopaths who run tech companies are freed from the constraints that act against them. When the web – and its browsers – were a big, contented, diverse, competitive space, it was harder for tech companies to collude to capture standards bodies like the W3C to secure even more dominance. As the web turned into Tom Eastman's "five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four," that kind of collusion became much easier:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In arguing for faithful agents, Berjon associates himself with the group of scholars, regulators and activists who call for user agents to serve as "information fiduciaries." Mostly, information fiduciaries come up in the context of user privacy, with the idea that entities that hold a user's data would have the obligation to put the user's interests ahead of their own. Think of a lawyer's fiduciary duty in respect of their clients, to give advice that reflects the client's best interests, even when that conflicts with the lawyer's own self-interest. For example, a lawyer who believes that settling a case is the best course of action for a client is required to tell them so, even if keeping the case going would generate more billings for the lawyer and their firm.

For a user agent to be faithful, it must be your fiduciary. It must put your interests ahead of the interests of the entity that made it or operates it. Browsers, email clients, and other internet software that served as a fiduciary would do things like automatically blocking tracking (which most email clients don't do, especially webmail clients made by companies like Google, who also sell advertising and tracking).

Berjon contemplates a legally mandated fiduciary duty, citing Lindsey Barrett's "Confiding in Con Men":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3354129

He describes a fiduciary duty as a remedy for the enforcement failures of EU's GDPR, a solidly written, and dismally enforced, privacy law. A legally backstopped duty for agents to be fiduciaries would also help us distinguish good and bad forms of "innovation" – innovation in ways of thwarting a user's will are always bad.

Now, the tech giants insist that they are already fiduciaries, and that when they thwart a user's request, that's more like blocking access to a page where the encryption has been compromised than like HAL9000's "I can't let you do that, Dave." For example, when Louis Barclay created "Unfollow Everything," he (and his enthusiastic users) found that automating the process of unfollowing every account on Facebook made their use of the service significantly better:

https://slate.com/technology/2021/10/facebook-unfollow-everything-cease-desist.html

When Facebook shut the service down with blood-curdling legal threats, they insisted that they were simply protecting users from themselves. Sure, this browser automation tool – which just automatically clicked links on Facebook's own settings pages – seemed to do what the users wanted. But what if the user interface changed? What if so many users added this feature to Facebook without Facebook's permission that they overwhelmed Facebook's (presumably tiny and fragile) servers and crashed the system?

These arguments have lately resurfaced with Ethan Zuckerman and Knight First Amendment Institute's lawsuit to clarify that "Unfollow Everything 2.0" is legal and doesn't violate any of those "felony contempt of business model" laws:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/

Sure, Zuckerman seems like a good guy, but what if he makes a mistake and his automation tool does something you don't want? You, the Facebook user, are also a nice guy, but let's face it, you're also a naive dolt and you can't be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Those decisions can only be made by Facebook, whom we can rely upon to exercise its authority wisely.

Other versions of this argument surfaced in the debate over the EU's decision to mandate interoperability for end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) messaging through the Digital Markets Act (DMA), which would let you switch from, say, Whatsapp to Signal and still send messages to your Whatsapp contacts.

There are some good arguments that this could go horribly awry. If it is rushed, or internally sabotaged by the EU's state security services who loathe the privacy that comes from encrypted messaging, it could expose billions of people to serious risks.

But that's not the only argument that DMA opponents made: they also argued that even if interoperable messaging worked perfectly and had no security breaches, it would still be bad for users, because this would make it impossible for tech giants like Meta, Google and Apple to spy on message traffic (if not its content) and identify likely coordinated harassment campaigns. This is literally the identical argument the NSA made in support of its "metadata" mass-surveillance program: "Reading your messages might violate your privacy, but watching your messages doesn't."

This is obvious nonsense, so its proponents need an equally obviously intellectually dishonest way to defend it. When called on the absurdity of "protecting" users by spying on them against their will, they simply shake their heads and say, "You just can't understand the burdens of running a service with hundreds of millions or billions of users, and if I even tried to explain these issues to you, I would divulge secrets that I'm legally and ethically bound to keep. And even if I could tell you, you wouldn't understand, because anyone who doesn't work for a Big Tech company is a naive dolt who can't be trusted to understand how the world works (much like our users)."

Not coincidentally, this is also literally the same argument the NSA makes in support of mass surveillance, and there's a very useful name for it: scalesplaining.

Now, it's totally true that every one of us is capable of lapses in judgment that put us, and the people connected to us, at risk (my own parents gave their genome to the pseudoscience genetic surveillance company 23andme, which means they have my genome, too). A true information fiduciary shouldn't automatically deliver everything the user asks for. When the agent perceives that the user is about to put themselves in harm's way, it should throw up a roadblock and explain the risks to the user.

But the system should also let the user override it.

This is a contentious statement in information security circles. Users can be "socially engineered" (tricked), and even the most sophisticated users are vulnerable to this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

The only way to be certain a user won't be tricked into taking a course of action is to forbid that course of action under any circumstances. If there is any means by which a user can flip the "are you very sure?" circuit-breaker back on, then the user can be tricked into using that means.

This is absolutely true. As you read these words, all over the world, vulnerable people are being tricked into speaking the very specific set of directives that cause a suspicious bank-teller to authorize a transfer or cash withdrawal that will result in their life's savings being stolen by a scammer:

https://www.thecut.com/article/amazon-scam-call-ftc-arrest-warrants.html

We keep making it harder for bank customers to make large transfers, but so long as it is possible to make such a transfer, the scammers have the means, motive and opportunity to discover how the process works, and they will go on to trick their victims into invoking that process.

Beyond a certain point, making it harder for bank depositors to harm themselves creates a world in which people who aren't being scammed find it nearly impossible to draw out a lot of cash for an emergency and where scam artists know exactly how to manage the trick. After all, non-scammers only rarely experience emergencies and thus have no opportunity to become practiced in navigating all the anti-fraud checks, while the fraudster gets to run through them several times per day, until they know them even better than the bank staff do.

This is broadly true of any system intended to control users at scale – beyond a certain point, additional security measures are trivially surmounted hurdles for dedicated bad actors and as nearly insurmountable hurdles for their victims:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

At this point, we've had a couple of decades' worth of experience with technological "walled gardens" in which corporate executives get to override their users' decisions about how the system should work, even when that means reaching into the users' own computer and compelling it to thwart the user's desire. The record is inarguable: while companies often use those walls to lock bad guys out of the system, they also use the walls to lock their users in, so that they'll be easy pickings for the tech company that owns the system:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

This is neatly predicted by enshittification's theory of constraints: when a company can override your choices, it will be irresistibly tempted to do so for its own benefit, and to your detriment.

What's more, the mere possibility that you can override the way the system works acts as a disciplining force on corporate executives, forcing them to reckon with your priorities even when these are counter to their shareholders' interests. If Facebook is genuinely worried that an "Unfollow Everything" script will break its servers, it can solve that by giving users an unfollow everything button of its own design. But so long as Facebook can sue anyone who makes an "Unfollow Everything" tool, they have no reason to give their users such a button, because it would give them more control over their Facebook experience, including the controls needed to use Facebook less.

It's been more than 20 years since Seth Schoen and I got a demo of Microsoft's first "trusted computing" system, with its "remote attestations," which would let remote servers demand and receive accurate information about what kind of computer you were using and what software was running on it.

This could be beneficial to the user – you could send a "remote attestation" to a third party you trusted and ask, "Hey, do you think my computer is infected with malicious software?" Since the trusted computing system produced its report on your computer using a sealed, separate processor that the user couldn't directly interact with, any malicious code you were infected with would not be able to forge this attestation.

But this remote attestation feature could also be used to allow Microsoft to block you from opening a Word document with Libreoffice, Apple Pages, or Google Docs, or it could be used to allow a website to refuse to send you pages if you were running an ad-blocker. In other words, it could transform your information fiduciary into a faithless agent.

Seth proposed an answer to this: "owner override," a hardware switch that would allow you to force your computer to lie on your behalf, when that was beneficial to you, for example, by insisting that you were using Microsoft Word to open a document when you were really using Apple Pages:

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

Seth wasn't naive. He knew that such a system could be exploited by scammers and used to harm users. But Seth calculated – correctly! – that the risks of having a key to let yourself out of the walled garden were less than being stuck in a walled garden where some corporate executive got to decide whether and when you could leave.

Tech executives never stopped questing after a way to turn your user agent from a fiduciary into a traitor. Last year, Google toyed with the idea of adding remote attestation to web browsers, which would let services refuse to interact with you if they thought you were using an ad blocker:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

The reasoning for this was incredible: by adding remote attestation to browsers, they'd be creating "feature parity" with apps – that is, they'd be making it as practical for your browser to betray you as it is for your apps to do so (note that this is the same justification that the W3C gave for creating EME, the treacherous user agent in your browser – "streaming services won't allow you to access movies with your browser unless your browser is as enshittifiable and authoritarian as an app").

Technologists who work for giant tech companies can come up with endless scalesplaining explanations for why their bosses, and not you, should decide how your computer works. They're wrong. Your computer should do what you tell it to do:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/08/your-computer-should-say-what-you-tell-it-say-1

These people can kid themselves that they're only taking away your power and handing it to their boss because they have your best interests at heart. As Upton Sinclair told us, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when their paycheck depends on them not understanding it.

The only way to get a tech boss to consistently treat you well is to ensure that if they stop, you can quit. Anything less is a one-way ticket to enshittification.

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/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

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

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

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bitchesgetriches · 4 months

Note

Dear bitches, I have a question that may benefit the class: I'm lucky to have a job that has a very generous 15 day sick leave policy, and no health issues that would make me take it - except that I also have the copper IUD that gives me horrid cramps on day 1 of my period, for just about 24 hours exactly.

What is the business speak for 'I'm taking a sick day today because of my period'? What is the general business speak for 'I won't be here for a day for health reasons' that doesn't imply contagion or invite questions about how I'm feeling when I come back? Thank you and I hope you know JUST how appreciated you are (seriously, who else would I ask this to)

Sweetie pie... we LOVE that we're the ones you choose to ask this of. This is all we ever wanted--for strangers on the internet to talk to us about their periods!

(Sidenote: I, Piggy, also currently have an IUD, and it leads to practically ZERO symptoms of menstruation. I don't bleed, I don't get cramps, I don't experience mood swings. About once per year my face breaks out in zits and I bleed a small amount for a few hours. That's it. I fucking love it. So readers, just keep in mind that everyone's body is different and your symptoms may vary on any medication. I DIGRESS.)

The #1 thing to keep in mind is that your employer is not entitled to any confidential medical information. If you have cancer, they don't have a right to that information. If you've got a headache, they don't have a right to know. If you're considering a cosmetic surgery, a gender alignment surgery, or any other surgery... they don't need to know. So if you're menstruating and it hurts, they definitely don't get to know.

So my preference would be to go with the direct approach. If you're cramping and you want to take a sick day, just tell your employer "I'm taking a sick day." If they press for details, say "I'll see you tomorrow. :)" If they keep pressing, remind them that they are not legally entitled to your confidential medical information.

But if you'd rather not be direct (and who could blame you?) just tell them you "got food poisoning from the mussels at that place off of i70--you know the one? Yeah last time I'll make that mistake, even if I do have a Groupon. I didn't know puke could even BE that color!" Food poisoning is gross and temporary and tends to dissuade further questions.

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment

If we just helped you out, tip us!

#pto #sick time #workplace benefits #navigating the workplace #career advice #sick days #paid time off #menstruation #period

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twopoppies · 2 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/747389355237195776/hello-gina-i-hope-you-have-a-good-day-i-dont

You make some really good points here, especially about stepping away a bit and trying to just enjoy them as musicians. I’ve tried it with some success, but it’s not easy. I do honestly love both of their music and listen to it daily. Beyond that, it’s good to back off a bit for me.

I think for me something that has really become clear this last year, is that many fans feel entitled to what I would call Chapter 118 of the Harry/Louis WIP, and the reality is it’s just not coming. Now I love reading Larry fan fiction as much as the next person, but looking at it that way is so unfair to them. They have real lives and relationships and it’s not a story that needs to be tied up with a happily ever after. Lots of Larries - especially Twitter Larries - seem to use every interview or use of a primary color as a new chapter. I’ve never been a believer in the “mastermind” theory. And you are so right when you say the good vs evil is not really clear anymore. Yes, Syco and Cowell committed a lot of abuses, but those guys walked out of there with around $50M and tons of doors opened for them that wouldn’t have been possible without 1D , so the lines are blurred.

I think it’s pretty clear from Harry’s “corner of the internet ….it’s not real” interview to Louis latest, they don’t want our help in this - whatever “this” is anymore. It’s not underdogs vs overlords and I don’t like taking away Harry’s and Louis’s agency at this point.

It’s funny, because in 2016 if someone had said this is where you will be 8 years later I would have laughed in their face. But this is where we are and finding ways to deal with it and realizing we may never have more then we have today can be hard. Who knows what will happen in the future. Tomorrow the whole thing could blow wide open and lots of questions will get answered, but I just don’t think so and I’m ok with that. Sort of…. lol!

Anyway, thanks for the nice, calm commentary. I still enjoy reading it all!

Oh, I totally feel you on waiting for chapter 118. So many people treat their lives like an unfinished fic or a game to win. It’s super unhealthy for fans and I can’t imagine it feels good for Harry and Louis. And I very much agree that where we once were helpful, we may now be a hindrance at times. Saying that, I think it’s important to acknowledge that we’re not fucking making things up out of thin air and Harry/Louis/their teams often use Larry and larries for their benefit.

That makes it difficult to feel that they’re being completely honest when they say they don’t want a focus put on Larry.

Regardless, I’m tired of playing this game. I’d prefer to just chill in my own little circle and talk about Larry with my friends and go to concerts and have fun. But I don’t enjoy being treated like shit when it’s convenient and then sent flowers when I’m needed again, you know?

#current thoughts on Larry

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chdarling · 11 months

Text

Hey guys. I’ve turned off anon indefinitely. You can still send me asks for now, but you’re going to have to use your name.

Sorry to do this, but while 99% of you are lovely and I’m so grateful for your thoughtful comments and readership, some people who frequent this website really need to reconsider boundaries and the way you talk to actual humans on the internet.

And, just as a little reminder to the aforementioned some people: this isn’t my job, I don’t get paid for this, and every time you send me rude messages about how long it takes me to write TLE, it makes me want to work on TLE less. I have a bunch of original projects demanding my attention right now too, and when I open tumblr to see several messages in a row about how I’m not doing enough fast enough for my fanfic labor of love that I am sharing for absolutely f’ing free, it makes me start to question why I’m bothering with all this and why I’m not putting this time into my other projects instead.

The answer to this question, ultimately, is because I love TLE, and that’s why I’ve written it from the start, and that’s why I expect I will feel compelled to see it through to the end, but it certainly doesn’t make me feel compelled to hurry up and hustle just so some jerk anons get off my ass about meeting their entitled expectations. That’s not how this works. I am not, actually, writing this for you, jerk anons. I’m letting you read it.

Ok, rant over. Thank you to those of you who have been so lovely in my ask box in the past. I’m not posting this in any attempt to garner sympathy or anything, so please don’t feel like you need to reblog this or defend me. I have just been frustrated and felt the need to speak into existence some firmer boundaries that I’ve been fairly lax about in the past.

Thank you ❤️

#ch answers #tle2 #the only time I truly believe in astrology is when someone tells me what to do #and then it’s like oh shit yeah I am the biggest Taurus to ever Taurus oops

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enchantestuff · 2 years

Text

solace - charles leclerc

summary: working in the same line of work with your ex-boyfriend is difficult, especially when the hatred for one another is still very fresh, but what happens when one small moment of kindness changes their perception of one another

once again not my gif!!

warnings: 18+. toxic!Charles, toxic!reader too kinda, break up, mentions of cheating, mentions of both charles and daniel being screwed over by their teams, name calling, arguments, foul language, choking, angry!charles, dom!charles, jealousy, pet names, angst, unresolved feelings, fingering, edging, wrap it before u tap it, not proof read in the slightest

6.1k words - my longest one yet

a/n theres a big monolague with daniel as although this fic isnt about him i had to express my love for him one way or another and for that i apologise x

Things between you and Charles Leclerc had once been amazing.

There used to be a point in your life where you didn't perceive him to be the most entitled and egotistical prick to ever exist, one where you actually held him in a positive light and, in all honesty, thought the world of him. One where you would console him after crappy races - sticking by his side when the media became too heavy on his shoulders and comforting him in private where nobody else could see.

That was a few months ago, however, back when you still worked for Ferrari, back when there was no “ex” in front of “boyfriend” whenever mentioning Charles in a passing conversation. Back when the two of you actually trusted one another - before thoughts of cheating and various other scandals infiltrated both your minds and caused the tragic downfall of your relationship.

Headlines of him in the media conversing with other girls were something you had gotten used to during your relationship, as well as the various DMS from fans, sending you photos they had taken, or found on the internet, of an unknowing Charles speaking with a female, or even engaging in a selfie. You were aware many people were waiting for the downfall of your relationship, you just didn’t expect the said downfall to occur when the rumours had been flipped around.

All of a sudden, you were the one who was supposedly cheating on Charles and with Daniel Ricciardo of all people. Upon first hearing about it you simply laughed, finding it comical that certain people went to these lengths to break up a relationship. You thought Charles would brush away the rumours, much like you had, and continue on with what had grown to become a beautiful connection between the two of you.

But you were wrong, so very wrong.

The blowout had been horrible, words of anger thrown in every direction, mistakes from months ago - ones that had no meaning relevance now - being brought back up with the intent to harm the other. Accusations were being made up on the spot to gain the upper hand.

It was devastating being caught up in it, with every comment to defend yourself and accusation thrown at him, you could see your relationship moving closer and closer to the edge until it inevitably tumbled over with you having the final blow. In a pit of rage, you told Charles he had the whole world wrapped around his pinky finger but expressed that you knew it was all an act and he was really a backstabbing prick.

After that, as you stormed out of his apartment, you could hear him through the door, vocalising that he never wanted to see you again, making sure that even his furthest neighbours could hear your argument.

You hailed a taxi as quickly as you could, giving the address of the Ferrari offices where you terminated your contract. Effective immediately.

If Charles was so adamant you were as sly as a snake then you believed it would only be right to prove him wrong.

Talks with McLaren had been in the works for a few months at that stage, the only thing that kept you loyal to Ferrari was Charles, and since that ended horribly, you knew this change would be the best thing not only for your career but also for your mental wellbeing.

It was only upon signing the contract with McLaren that you realised how bad your situation would appear. Not to everyone around you, people in the paddock broke up quite frequently, and switching teams to maintain your career was a normal occurrence. But Charles would only assume the worst when he found out you were assigned to become Daniels PR manager.

He wasn't your problem anymore

***

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. Your actions represented the mood of the entire Mclaren garage. The Canadian Grand Prix had not been good to you, and although you had repeatedly told your fellow colleagues that the car was at fault, not the drivers, you finally had proof to back up your scoldings.

The sinking feeling in the bottom of your stomach was one you were all too familiar with, having experienced it throughout the first half of this season with McLaren and also the past two years with Ferrari.

You had already briefed Daniel on exactly what to say to the media, although it wasn’t much different from your advice the previous race. Or the one before that.

You had to force yourself to look away from his devastated expression, knowing that he didn’t need your sympathy, but more so your advice, that was what you were being paid for after all. Unfortunately for you, as you glanced around the media pen, you locked eyes with the man you despised the most.

“Tough race man,” you heard Daniel address Charles from behind you.

“Yeah mate, shit for the both of us,” he agreed, doing their usual bro hug which you assumed would be the end of that conversation. Oh, how you were wrong.

“How's life at McLaren treating you, Y/N?”

To anyone else, it would seem Charles was simply inquiring about your life, but you knew this was his attempt at shooting a dig at you in hopes of indulging in another argument, something that seemed to be a usual occurrence in the media pen between you two. When Daniel excused himself to get water, you decided to fire back at him, throwing back the pettiest response you could think of.

“McLarens been treating be really good actually, its been a pleasure to work with Daniel,” you smiled, Charles’ new PR manager grinned politely at your answer while the Ferrari driver simply stared at you in disgust.

“You're probably having such a good time over there, huh?” he prodded. You rolled your eyes at the hidden meaning of his words but played along nevertheless.

“Not to sound like I'm ungrateful for the opportunity at Ferrari but I really prefer it here at McLaren. They know how to treat their employees with respect,” you spat, arching your brow at Charles, daring him to try you again.

“And have you started fucking him in his drivers' room after interviews? Or was that special treatment just reserved for me?” he probed, earning a gasp from his PR manager.

“Charles!” she scolded, throwing you an apologetic glance before prompting him to move along.

“Suppose you'll never find out,” you smiled sweetly at him, pivoting in your place to go find Daniel and put an end to this race weekend.

***

High hopes had been running through the Mclaren garage all weekend. This was the British Grand Prix after all, their home race, they would be fools to not have any hope held out for their two drivers.

Unfortunately for Daniel, much like many of the other races this season, there had been damage to his car throughout the race, leading to an unfortunate result for his side of the garage invoking frustration and disappointment throughout his whole team.

Yet nobody was more upset than the Australian himself, looking at you with sorrow in his eyes as he listened to your advice on how to approach the media.

“It feels like you’re telling me the same shit every race,” he scoffed, a bitter laugh emerging from his throat as he inspected his hands. You feared if he looked up at you he would have tears in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Daniel,” you explained, “the car-”

“You know,” Daniel began, cutting you off as he stared behind you, “there was a point during the race - before I knew about the damage - that I thought to myself, god, what if I’m not cut out for this sport anymore and fuck, that thought scared the shit out of me.”

Your heart broke at his revelation and felt it was only right you bared a piece of yourself to him as well. One truth for another, you were close friends after all.

“Sometimes,” you began, a burst of nervous laughter bubbling from you as you moved to sit next to him on the pavement, “sometimes, when I'm sat in the garage watching a race unfold, I begin to think maybe I'm the cause of all this bad luck.” You threw a warning stare at Daniel, silently telling him not to cut you off before continuing, “back when I worked for Ferrari, everything was a shit show, and now that I'm here, the car - “

“Is a shit show,” Daniel interrupted with a laugh, invoking a smile to appear on your own face.

“Yes exactly, but I've realized that neither you nor I have any control over that,” you stood up and outstretched your hand towards him, “so there's no point in us sitting here sulking when we can get this weekend over with and spend time with people we actually like,” you smiled upon seeing his smile.

Taking hold of your hand, Daniel stood up, “I was going to stay I liked you but the glare Charles is giving me right now has made me rethink my decision,” he quietly confessed.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up instantly, but you refused to look behind you in fear of melting underneath Charles's gaze.

***

Your attempt at avoiding Charles was futile, there was no avoiding him when you were both in the media pen. Yet, your heart still managed to jump in your chest when you spotted him slumped over the metal fence that surrounded the various reporters, his neck strained to hear the question being asked and his features resembling defeat.

From the two years, you had known him, you never knew Charles to be someone who accepted defeat - who called it a day and moved on with their lives - no, Charles was the type of person to actively search for a solution to his problems, doing everything in his power to get better and achieve a better result the next time around.

This Charles was somebody completely foreign to you and it made your heart ache to think Ferrari, the team that he had looked up to his whole life, was the cause of his suffering.

You weren’t surprised when Daniel moved to pat Charles on the back, turning him away from the microphone and cameras and whispering what you could only assume to be condolences in his ear. From the way Charles nodded his head and the tight-lipped smile on his face, you knew words of encouragement were being exchanged from driver to driver.

It was when Daniel pulled away, ready to continue with his media duties that Charles noticed you. While his expression didn’t falter, you could see his eyes ghosting over your frame. He had spoken to Daniel for too long, he had to turn back around and continue with his media duties, he was obliged to. You both knew that, and the reporter patiently waiting for him also knew that, maybe that’s what provoked you to utter your first kind words to him in what felt like forever. Or perhaps it was that you were so exhausted by your endless bickering that you wanted to wave the white flag and end your petty feud.

You didn’t allow yourself to muddle over the possibilities, mutter a quick yet sincere “I’m sorry.” before scattering away, following Daniel to his first interview of the day.

Interviews moved pretty smoothly after that, and before you knew it, you were standing alongside Daniel for this second last interview of the day. Nodding your head to what he was saying, you moved your recorder slightly closer to his frame, wanting to ensure that the words leaving his mouth would be heard loud and clear through the McLaren motorhome as you had your end race debrief.

Faltering slightly, losing your focus while doing so, you felt a shiver run down your spine as a gentle, fleeting squeeze was placed on your waist. Swallowing slowly in an attempt to compose yourself, you waited a second before turning to inconspicuously glance around the media pen, almost immediately locking eyes with the Ferrari driver beside you, waiting on his turn behind Lando.

With his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed you could have almost believed it wasn’t him that had treated you with his subtle soft touch, yet you knew, from the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and how quickly he looked away from you, that it was, in fact, him, yet you couldn’t decipher exactly why he had done it. Or what it meant.

Daniel wrapped up his interview and swiftly pulled you out of that train of thought and you were forced to lead him along to his final interview of the day.

Noticing that mischievous glimmer in Charles’s eye’ you knew he had something left up his sleeve. Something else to have you contemplating what it was he wanted from you.

“Hey, Daniel,” he spoke, reaching out to grab the Aussies’ arm as he passed by. Daniel's features almost immediately brightened upon seeing his friend. Features that were once solemn and gloomy were now cheerful and happy as he waited for the Monaccian to speak, “I just wanted to say thank you, for your words before, they - they mean a lot,” although Charles was speaking to Daniel, his gaze remained on you for the duration of his expression of gratitude.

The blood in your body rushed to your cheeks, mouth opening and closing while you waited for Daniel to respond, Charles was speaking to him after all.

“No worries, man, you really should be thanking Y/N though, she’s the one with all the good - oh,” Daniel froze, as if only suddenly realizing his mistake. His eye flickered between the two of you, taking note of the way both of you refused to meet the other’s gaze. Clearing his throat awkwardly he nodded his head, “So I’m going to head to my last interview, Charles if you need anything just give me a shout,” he smiled, forcing a cough before asking if you were joining him.

You quickly shuffled past Charles, praying the last interview wouldn’t take long so you could get through the debrief and go home.

***

You groaned the second you stepped out of the McLaren motorhome, grimacing at the cloudy evening you had walked into. The McLaren debrief had taken longer than you anticipated, and with a pile of work still left to do, you had been one of the last employees to leave the motorhome.

With most of the teams already packed up and on their way home, you felt a chilly air surround you. It was odd walking through a nearly empty paddock, having been used to it so lively and busy the past few years, you were shocked to find yourself almost jumping at the sight of another human making their way towards the exit.

Upon registering their all-red attire and tight grip on the number 16 cap, you realized that perhaps you did have reason to be on edge. Stopping suddenly, Charles reached into his pocket, retrieved his phone and placed it to his ear. He stopped short of his destination, moving to lean against the Ferrari motorhome as he conversed in French with the person on the other line.

You straightened your back as you walked past him, silently praying that he would pay no attention to you. His french mumblings became louder and louder the closer you neared until you were a mere few metres away from him.

For the period the two of you were official, you had spent nearly every day together, which wasn’t necessarily bizarre when you did fact work with him, but when it came to the summer holidays, your habit of sleeping in the same bed and indulging in the same activities didn’t cease.

That summer you had gotten closer to his family, having been invited to their family holiday where not only your relationship with Charles got stronger, but also your relationship with his brothers. It was during that summer you learnt some French, not enough to keep a conversation going, but enough to understand that Charles was complaining about how Ferrari had royally fucked him over to whoever had decided to call him, presumably one of his brothers.

“Let me call you back, “ he switched to English. You knew then and there he had spotted you, deciding against creating a scene and prolonging this much-needed conversation, you plastered a smile on your face and turned around to greet it. It’s a shame, you had gotten so close to the exit.

“Y/N,” Charles breathed, afraid you would run off and refuse to talk to him once again.

“Charles, hi,” you faltered, “how are -”

“Why did you do that?” he pondered, not bothering to indulge in your attempt at small talk when something was clearly bothering him.

“Do what?” you questioned, arms folding across your chest in defence, already bracing yourself for yet another quarrel with him.

“Say sorry and then leave?” he bellowed, arm shooting towards the sky as if it were the gods above he was arguing with.

“What?”

“What are you sorry for?” he wondered, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he searched your face for an answer, “Are you sorry for leaving and not giving us a chance? Or are you sorry for stabbing me in the back? Which one is it, ma cherie?” he spat, venom laced in his voice bringing you back to the last big argument the two of you had.

“I was sorry for how Ferrari treated you actually, but now I'm beginning to think that was your punishment for being a little brat,” you defended, arms no longer crossed across your chest but instead laying on either side of your hips.

His cackle sent another jolt of anger through your body. Did he think this was funny? You were a fool to assume closure was what he wanted rather than another fight to release his anger, anger that wasn’t intentionally directed at you but at his team.

“Right I forgot you never really cared about me,” he remarked abruptly with a sigh.

“You were the one who said you never wanted to see me again, don't act like the downfall of our relationship is on my shoulders only,” you barked, eyes narrowed in accusation.

“You know i didn't mean it! Like you, I didnt mean most of the things i said.”

Your silence to his words made him internally panic.

“You didnt mean everything, did you?” You didnt know how to respond, not anticipating such a tender moment from him. “Everything?” You noticed the way his voice cracked, unable to look at your face anymore as he came to his own conclusion. A conclusion you knew to be completely inaccurate.

“I-”

“Sorry to break up whatevers going on here,” Pierre interrupted the two of you, clearly on his way home but stopping quickly to warn you, “but theres a big group of reporters behind me and i dont think either of you want your little fight to be documented for the whole world to see.”

You had forgotten that it usually was the press and media who were the last to leave the paddock. Always hoping to catch a driver or team principle for a quick word before they left for home.

“Maybe the two of you should take this inside,” he suggested, nodding to the Ferrari motorhome behind you. “You guys really need to talk shit out.”

And with that he left Charles to lead you inside. A sense of deja vu overcame you as you walked through the familiar red walls. You took your time to take in your sights, smliing at some posters on the wall before allowing Charles to lead you into a secluded office. Although there was nobody else around, with the majority of the team gone to celebrate Carlos’ first win, some privacy was still appreciated.

“Welcome to Mattias office,” Charles announced, waiting for you to close the door before slumping into the chair positioned in the middle of the room, seemingly defeated from the circles the two of you were going in.

You copied the huff of frustration he let out, slouching against the wall and peering at the various photos framed against the wall. “So this is where Binotto comes to sulk,” you noted, desperately wanting to change the topic of conversation before another argument broke out between the two of you.

“I’m surprised this is your first time seeing it,” he confessed, one leg moving to cross over the other, your eyes closed in relief, grateful to have an escape from your previous squabble.

“Unlike you, I didn't make it a habit to get into trouble with the boss,” you smirked, tearing your focus from the wall to watch him as a grin crossed his face.

“No because you always had someone to take the fall for you,” he shot back, arms crossing behind his head showcasing the casulesness of your current conversation.

“Right, sorry how could I forget,” you laughed moving to sit on the edge of Binittos desk, facing him and giving all your attention to the lively conversation, “my night in shining amour,” you pretend to faint, hand pressed against your forehead, your own laugh tumbling out followed by Charles’.

“Remember when you smashed his favourite mug and he had everyone searching for it in the garage thinking he lost it?” he reminisced, his arms now leaning against the desk, so close to your body you could feel the heat generating from them.

He was too close. It was all too familiar. You could get your heart broken again.

“Oh come on! You practically begged to own up to it, you knew you were his little golden boy, I, however, was very replaceable.”

The mood shifted between the two of you, his arms moved to rest on his laps and his hands suddenly became very interesting to him. “Too bad they don't think that highly of me anymore,” he dismissed, mouth pulled into a frown. For some reason, you felt protective over him. Just because you didn't partially like him as a person didn't mean you had to stop admiring him as a driver. You felt the need to console him, let it be known that he's still one of the bests.

“Hey, you have every right to be mad at your team for screwing you over, your feelings are justified, but don't direct that anger on yourself you are amazing-”

“The media-”

“Fuck what the media think!” you remarked, standing up from the and swivelling Charles's chair around so he had no choice but to listen to your words. “The media only see bits and pieces of you as a racing driver, they don't see all the hard work you put in behind the scenes, nor do they see the team at the pit wall royally screwing you over,” you spoke, feeling a sense of deja vu come over you having had this conversation with Daniel on numerous occasions.

“When did you become so good at this? Making people feel better?” he asked.

“You and Daniel have a lot more in common than you think,” you shrugged, unaware you had hit a sore spot until Charles himself stood up. With virtually no space between the two of you, your chests ended up touching with every breath you took and you couldn't help but take a step back, falling back onto Mattias desk and seemingly, right where Charles wanted you. His two hands moved to rest on either side of you, trapping you between him and the mahogany wood underneath you.

“Fucking Daniel,” he seethed “seems to always get everything I want.”

You were confused, you thought Daniel and Charles were good friends, you thought they had put those nonsense cheating rumours behind them.

“The whole world loves him, and now he had you wrapped around his little finger.”

One of his hands wrapped onto the table till his knuckles were white while the other began to play with your hair.

“He’s really starting to piss me off,” rolling his eyes once more, and when he set his sights on you again they were visibly darker. “Tell me, ma belle, do you think Daniel could make you cum with just his fingers?”

He wanted an answer to his question, you were aware of that, but it was so hard to focus on formulating words when Charles had his fingers trailing up from your ankle, wrapping underneath the base of your knee and pulling you so that your core rested against his own.

Bad day to wear a skirt you figured.

He pinched the skin on the side of your thigh. You knew what that meant. He wanted an answer and he wanted one now.

“No,” you shook your head, “never.”

He moved at a speed you'd never seen before, hand moving up and up to cup your core through your panties. Your body jolted at the action, at the familiarity of it and of him.

“Could he make your body react like this?” he questioned, fingers moving your underwear to the side and gently caressing your clit, exactly the way he knew you liked. “Hmmm?” he encouraged, slipping one finger in and allowing his thumb to focus on your clit.

“Never thought about him like that, honest,” you confessed, allowing your head to find solace in the crook of his neck while he began moving his finger in and out of you, adding another when he deemed fit. “M-more, please,” you begged, after months of using your own fingers to pleasure yourself you had forgotten how skilled Charles was with his own.

You knew it was only a matter of moments before you came undone on Mattia Binottos' desk, and if you knew Charles, you knew he would try to prolong it as long as possible.

“Say it in french,” he teased, fingers continuing with their movements but now at a much slower pace.

“W-what?” you gasped, eyes rolling back in delight when he found that sweet spot inside you, the one that your fingers failed to reach in your dire times of need.

“En français, mon amour, don't tell me that summer meant absolutely nothing to you,” he faked being offended.

It baffled you how he could bring up your past relationship so easily, especially when his fingers were inside you and you were practically on the brink of an orgasm.

“S'il vous plaît,” you whispered and that was enough for Charles to add yet another finger and increase his tempo.

Everything after that was a blur, as you got closer and closer to your orgasm all other senses retreated to nothingness - then Charles pulled his fingers away from you at the crucial moment. A sob broke through you at your orgasm being denied from you, quickly followed by a gag as Charles's fingers suddenly passed by your lips, laying to rest on your tongue.

“Just had to make sure you were still the good girl you used to be,” he winked, removing his fingers and plunging them back into your core once more.

Charles knew exactly how to make you cum, throughout your relationship he had spent the time studying your face, studying the way your body reacted to him until he knew exactly what you liked and what you didn't, which is why you came so fast on the wooden desk.

Cream mixed with the mahogany shades beneath you, a flash of pink quickly popping into view, confusing your hazy mind until you felt the fullness you could only describe as Charles Leclerc. Your arms fell beneath you, forearms holding your weight while you let your head dangle across the edge of the desk.

“Charles,” you gasped, not expecting such fullness immediately after your orgasm.

“Merde, mon amour, say that again,” he pleaded, his thumb once again moving to play with your clit.

“Charles,” you whined, scrunching your eyes shut, already feeling yet another orgasm approaching, “I cant.”

Charles furrowed his eyebrows at you, snaking his arm across your back and pulling you into him, allowing you to bear your weight on him.

“I thought you said you wanted more?” he wondered and before you could even think of a response he had his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. “That's it, ma belle, stay quiet,” he kissed your forehead, a hiss of pain leaving him when your nails scraped against his back, but you knew deep down he liked it, which was why he didn’t oppose when you repeated the action. ”Just focus on how you're feeling right now,” he encouraged, hand now resting against your throat and no longer squeezing.

He nipped at your neck, soothing it with his tongue before moving down to your breaks. Nips and licks were placed on every inch of your exposed skin. While you scraped at his back, making sure to pierce the skin with your sharp nails, he inflicted the same type of pain on you, the only difference was he did it with his tongue.

“Such a pain in my ass,” he muttered, sucking on your nipple, letting his teeth toy with the sensitive flesh.

“You're not such an angel either, Leclerc,” you rolled your eyes, letting your hands move down his arm, pressing enough pressure with your nails so that he would be reminded of this moment tomorrow morning.

“Leclerc?” Charles laughed, grabbing hold of your ass harshly and using it as leverage to pull your body into him to meet his rapid thrusts, “don't think I've forgotten that you were moaning my name a few minutes ago, mon amour.”

Wrapping your leg around his waist to let him hit the deepest spots inside you, you whispered your next words into his ear. “Don’t start thinking that was out of passion, Leclerc, I just wanted to make you feel better.”

He halted for a moment, pleasure momentarily ceasing until he wrapped his hand around your throat and rolled his hips into you at such a brutal speed that the desk beneath you started to shake. Unwilling to let your bickering end, you tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck, dragging him away from your neck to look you in the eye.

“Did I bruise your poor little ego?” you pouted, enjoying the way he clenched his jaw in response and even feeling yourself clenching around him.

“You're enjoying this huh?” he accused, you could feel his thumb drawing patterns on the side of your throat, letting you know he was still there and even if you didn't want to admit it, he still held the power over you. “You like getting me mad, ma cherie?” His grip on you tightened - not to the point of choking - but just enough that you had to force yourself to breathe. You nodded in response, chin hitting against his hand with every bob of your head. “Have to remember, Y/N, I'm the one with the power here.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest, your mouth dry and your eyes failing to stay open. You wanted to tell him how good he was making you feel, wanted to let him know he was doing such a good job, but you couldn't force any words out with his hand wrapped around your throat. Pleading with him through your eyes, it didn't take him long to understand what you were asking for.

“Going to have to beg for it, ma belle,” he grinned, looking at you with such a sympathetic expression you could almost believe he wasn't faking it.

“Ple-” you attempted, eyes closing shut as a moan tried to overtake your pleading. Everything was too much. You started to see white and couldn't decipher if that was your orgasm approaching or the result of too little oxygen.

“Good girl, you can do it,” he encouraged, loosening his grip just a fraction to allow you to mutter those words.

“Please Charles.”

“So good for me,” he appreciated, placing a kiss on your lips and then another atop your head.

“Feel so good, Charles,” you moaned, eyes rolling back, black spots littering your eyesight. You could feel your walls clenching around Charles, a telltale sign you were close, but that didn't matter so long as you got what you wanted. You weren't surprised when Charles stopped moving inside you, you expected it really, but that didn't mean that you weren't disappointed by it.

“Charles,” you whined, wiggling your hips in an attempt to convince him to begin moving again. The pit in your stomach had just begun rebuilding itself, on the brink of a second orgasm the only thing you could think about was reaching your climax, unfortunately for you, Charles seemed to have other ideas in mind.

“Charles, please,” you pleaded again, painfully aware of how needy you sounded but too lost in the moment to care.

“Shh, mon amour,” he hushed, hand moving away from your throat to caress the hair at the top of your head, moving some of the more sweaty pieces away from your face and allowing himself to view your big pleading eyes and plump lips.

“Just let me feel you for a second,” he whispered, eyes screwed shut in concentration as silence fell over the two of you.

Internally, you muddled over his words, seeking to uncover the hidden meaning behind them while simultaneously trying to put your orgasm on hold, a tough endeavour considering Charles was telling you just how good you felt in your ear, his hand trailing through every inch of your body, every dip and curve as if this was either the first or the very last time he would be this close to you again.

The atmosphere between the two of you changed once he began moving again. No longer were there any hostile words and angry actions between the two of you. On the contrary, Charles was holding you so gently in his arms you would think he was holding a porcelain doll.

No longer was he biting every inch of skin he could, constricting your airflow and making you beg for him in hopes of inflating his own ego. Now, with your foreheads pressed together, you were forced to look into his eyes, the same eyes that still held sorrow in them, although now you doubted it was because of his missed race win.

His hand snaked back up your body, seemingly done with its previous endeavour of caressing every inch of skin possible, and instead, it retreated back to its previous home on your neck. Refusing to obstruct your airflow anymore, he simply held onto you, making sure your focus remained solely on the heartbroken look on his face.

Your eyes scattered across his features, counting the freckles dotting his features in hopes it would convince your heart rate to slow down, you were sure Charles could feel your pulse beneath his hands, but if he could he refused to comment on it, simply bringing his lips down to your own.

The kiss, although tame, had your toes curling and arms pulling at his body to get him closer to you. He was trying to tell you something with this kiss, that much you were certain, you just couldn’t figure out what it was he was trying to say.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your lips, letting his head drop to your chest and continuing to thrust into you at a slow pace.

Now it was your turn to ask what he was sorry for. A part of you was scared to find out, you had already crossed more than enough lines with him today, did you really have it in you to cross yet another. Charles didn’t wait for your prompt, he simply continued speaking against the tender skin on your chest, as if it was completely normal the two of you were having this conversation whilst he was instead of you.

“I’m sorry for not chasing after you. I’m sorry for not believing in you when you told me you were all mine. I’m sorry for being a dick recently.”

His words felt rehearsed, as if he had said them before, perhaps over and over again in front of a mirror, much like you had with the next words you muttered.

“I wish I hadn’t spoken to you the way I did. I wish I had taken the time to talk to you before changing careers. I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn and reached out to you sooner.”

Your hands played with his soft hair, a moan abruptly leaving you when he hit that sweet spot inside you. His head poked up from your chest at the sound, a lazy smile on his face as he repeated his actions.

“I’m sorry for not letting you cum a second time, mon amour.”

You grinned up at him, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him in for another kiss.

“I forgive you.”

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