#Persistent Data Security

[reallyhappyyouth]

Why 'Cybersecurity First' Isn’t Enough: The Case for Data-Centric Protection

This video challenges the traditional "Cybersecurity First" mindset by revealing a critical gap: the lack of focus on protecting the data itself. While most cybersecurity strategies are designed to secure networks, endpoints, and applications, they often fail to safeguard the actual data assets—the real target of cyberattacks. The video introduces the concept of data-centric security, where security measures are embedded directly into the data, making it persistently protected no matter where it travels or how it is used. This modern approach complements zero-trust frameworks and helps organizations build a more resilient and future-ready data protection strategy.

[wilwheaton]

The American vice-president, JD Vance, visited an American base Greenland for three hours yesterday, along with his wife. National Security Advisor Mike Waltz and his wife also came along. Fresh from illegally using an unsafe social media platform to carry out an entirely unnecessary group chat in which they leaked sensitive data about an ongoing military attack to a reporter, Waltz and Vance perhaps hoped to change the subject by tagging along on a trip which was initially billed as Vance’s wife watching a dogsled race. The overall context was Donald Trump’s persistent claim that America must take Greenland, which is an autonomous region of Denmark. [...] Vance, who never left the base, and has never before visited Greenland, was quite sure how Greenlanders should live. He made a political appeal to Greenlanders, none of whom was present, or anywhere near him. He claimed that Denmark was not protecting the security of Greenlanders in the Arctic, and that the United States would. Greenland should therefore join the United States.

The Imperialism Has no Clothes - by Timothy Snyder

Jeffery Dahmer Vance is such an odious little toad.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How the world's leading breach expert got phished

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH on May 15 at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE. More tour dates here.

If you can't spot the sucker at the poker table, you're the sucker. Also, if you think you can't get phished, you're the sucker.

I've been successfully scammed six times in my life. Each time, the scam relied on the confluence of several factors that yielded a fleeting moment of vulnerability that some scammer was able to exploit by being in the right place at the right time. I had to be lucky always, they only had to be lucky once.

The first time I got scammed was in 2008, on my first trip to India. As I walked toward the Mumbai airport taxi queue at 2AM, I was approached by two uniformed airport security guards who told me that the taxi rank had been moved in the wake of a recent terrorist bombing in Islamabad, which had resulted in all the regional airports going on high alert. The bombing was real, the airport high alerts were real. The security guards – not real. They were scammers, working with a fake cab that charged me $200 for a $20 taxi ride.

I got scammed again this way in Shanghai, at the Pudong taxi-rank. I was with my wife, daughter and parents and we split into two cabs and the drivers colluded to turn off their meters and charge us extremely high cash fares, dropping us across the street from our hotel so we couldn't enlist the doorman to interpret. Again, it was very late at night, things were confusing, and we'd had to wait for more than an hour for the cab, so we were exhausted and sweaty and divided into two groups so we couldn't coordinate strategy.

Then there was the time I got successfully phished by a Twitter account takeover worm:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That was also a miracle of timing – for the scammers. I got hit on a day when I was running late, when I'd just reinstalled my phone's OS and was being prompted for my passwords all over again, when I had just done a bunch of major publishing and was getting a lot of messages about my new articles. When a friend got infected by a worm that took over his account and messaged me, "Is this you?" with a link that took me to a webpage that asked me to log back into Twitter, I re-entered my password. If I'd been five minutes later in getting to that DM, I would have seen three more identical messages from other infected friends and twigged to the scam. But I just happened to look at my phone in the two-minute window when the scam wasn't self-evident, and I just happened to be distracted and flustered about running late, and I just happened to have had some life circumstances that made the generic phishing lure seem plausible.

In 2023, I got scammed by a fake restaurant. I was on the couch with a friend from out of town who'd come by to watch a movie. We were chatting and decided to order from our local Thai restaurant. The top result on Google was a paid ad (marked out with the word "ad" in 8-point, grey-on-white type) that had a plausible domain name, which led to a replica of my local place's menu, only with the prices set 15% higher. I didn't even notice – not until the restaurant called me to say that they'd had a flood of orders from these scammers, who charged their customers' credit cards 15% over the odds, then placed an order for delivery using their own credit card numbers. I ended up contesting the charge with Amex, getting the scammers' Wix and credit card accounts canceled, and shaming Google into blocking their ads:

https://nypost.com/2023/02/25/cory-doctorow-duped-by-fake-thai-restaurant-scam/

Then there's the guy who used leaked data from my credit union to impersonate their fraud department, calling me up and social-engineering me out of the last seven digits of my card number (not the last four, as is common – most banks use the same nine-digit prefix, so the final seven digits are all you need to derive the whole card number). The scammer called right after I used two dodgy ATMs in New Orleans, during my last hour in town when I was rushing around to get my most favorite sandwich in the world before leaving. It was the day that a Boeing 737 Max lost its door-plug so the airport was a zoo and we barely made the flight, so I lost the hour I'd planned to use to call the bank's fraud department back. Again: if, if, if. If he'd called an hour earlier – or later. If there hadn't been a giant aviation disaster. If I hadn't been traveling. The scammer had to get lucky once, I had to be lucky every time:

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

I got scammed again last Christmas week. I was in NYC with my wife and daughter and I'd gotten great tickets to see The Outsiders on Broadway. It was my kid's first musical and to her surprise, she loved it. In the cab back to the friend's place we were staying at, we talked about what other musicals she might want to see. She loves South Park, and I'd seen banners advertising The Book of Mormon (which was created by the same people) in LA. So I looked up "book of mormon tickets los angeles" on my phone in the cab and found the production's website and ordered the tickets, working quickly in the cab because it was one of those websites that has a countdown timer so you have to finish your transaction in five minutes.

It wasn't the real Book of Mormon website. It was a scam website, reselling Book of Mormon tickets at a 200%+ markup. That fact was noted in infinitesimal writing on the main screen, which I missed in the crowded taxi backseat while I raced the countdown timer. I figured it out about 20 seconds after the transaction cleared, and immediately emailed the vendor to cancel it. All I got was a series of smug "all transactions final" emails from outsource customer service reps (in the end, I was able to get my credit card issuer to reverse the transaction, but it took months). But yeah, I got scammed by a sleazy company called "Bigstub." Fuck those guys.

Every time I got scammed, the con that got me was nearly identical to a con that I'd avoided on numerous occasions. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at spotting this kind of hustle, 99.9% of the time, didn't mean I was immune it it. It just meant that I was vulnerable under very special circumstances, and those very special circumstances do crop up from time to time.

This is the most important lesson of scams: that no matter how well-attuned you are to cons, you can still be conned. The belief that you are immune to a con actually makes you a mark. It's for that reason that I recount the tales of how I got scammed – to help other people understand that being sophisticated, alert and even paranoid is no guarantee that you will be safe.

I'm not the only person for whom a detailed knowledge of scams created immunity from being scammed. Troy Hunt is the proprietor of HaveIBeenPwned.com, the internet's most comprehensive and reliable breach notification site. Hunt pretty much invented the practice of tracking breaches, and he is steeped – saturated – in up-to-the-minute, nitty-gritty details of how internet scams work.

Guess who got phished?

https://www.troyhunt.com/a-sneaky-phish-just-grabbed-my-mailchimp-mailing-list/

Hunt had just gotten off a long-haul flight. He was jetlagged. He got a well-constructed, plausible counterfeit email from Mailchimp telling him that his mailing-list – which he absolutely relies upon – had been frozen after a spam complaint, and advising him to click on a link to contest the suspension. He was taken to a fake login screen that his password manager didn't autopopulate, so he manually pasted the password in (Mailchimp doesn't have 2FA). It was only when the login session hung that he realized he'd been scammed – and by then, it was too late. Within minutes, his mailing list had been exported by the scammers.

In his postmortem of the scam, Hunt identifies the overlapping factors that made him vulnerable. He was jetlagged. The mailing list was important. Bogus spam complaints are common. Big corporate sites like Mailchimp often redirect their logins through different domains, which causes password manager autofill to fail. Hunt had experienced near-identical phishing attempts before and spotted them, but this one just happened to land at the very moment that he was vulnerable. Plus – as with my credit union scam – it seems likely that Mailchimp itself had been breached (or has an insider threat), which allowed the scammers to pad out the scam with plausible details that made it seem legit.

Hunt's forensics on the scam are very interesting. Of especial note is the fact that Mailchimp had retained the email addresses of thousands of former subscribers who had already unsubscribed, meaning that their data was exposed as well. It's not clear why Mailchimp would do this, but I will note that the company is extraordinarily spammer-friendly and goes to great lengths to make it easy for spammers to add you to their lists, and impossible to get off of all those lists;

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Getting scammed doesn't mean you were stupid, or careless. Frequently, it just means you were distracted, upset, or distraught. We're living through a moment of total, all-consuming chaos, and the scammers are sharpening their blades – not least because the people running the show are unabashed grifters who openly boast that when they get one over on you, "that makes me smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

Buyer beware – it's ugly out there, and it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/05/troy-hunt/#teach-a-man-to-phish

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

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

[its-avalon-08]

📣 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 📣

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

🏁 pairing : Lando Norris x Piastri!Sister!Reader

🏎️ summary: she’s oscar piastri’s little sister — sarcastic, sharp, and completely uninterested in drivers. he’s lando norris — charming, persistent, and suddenly very interested in her. she came for oscar. she didn’t plan on falling for the one person she should’ve stayed away from.

themes : fluff, flirting, over protective brother, anxiety

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

chapter 3 : getting closer

Y/N sat cross-legged on the hospitality couch, laptop finally safe and secured in her tote. Lando plopped down a few feet away, spinning a cold water bottle between his hands, glancing over at her every so often.

“So,” he said, eyes flicking up, “medical research, huh?”

She smiled, head tilting. “Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like I’m building Frankenstein in a lab.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, leaning back into the couch. “But mine would be prettier. And less... stabby.”

Lando laughed. “Noted. If you start working on a charming British prototype, I volunteer.”

“Oh no, he’d be smart and emotionally available. So definitely not you.”

He feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch. You wound me mini Piastri.”

“Good you deserve it Norris,” she said sweetly, sipping from her water.

There was a brief pause as he smiled down at his hands.

“You always like this?” he asked.

She blinked. “Define ‘like this.’”

“Just—sharp. Funny. A little terrifying.”

She grinned. “I prefer the term intellectually intimidating with a touch of grace.”

He snorted. “So terrifying.”

She let out a breathy laugh and looked at him properly then, taking in the messy curls still damp from his helmet, the playful glint in his eye that softened every time he looked at her. “I don’t usually let people see me panic,” she said quietly.

“I don’t think less of you,” he said without hesitation. “Actually... kind of the opposite.”

She raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Because I lost an entire laptop?”

“No. Because you cared enough to freak out,” he said, voice lighter than usual but still sincere. “Shows it matters. I respect that. It's impressive to know you cared about your research and I don't know, it just makes you seem human.”

There was a beat.

Y/N looked down, twisting the edge of her laptop sleeve. “You’re different in person.”

“Yeah?” he asked, nudging her sneaker with his.

She nodded. “Less Instagram, more human.”

He laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“Glad I could keep you humble.”

They shared a smile, something lingering in the air between them now—barely there, but it buzzed under her skin.

Lando leaned back on his elbows, looking out toward the terrace. “You know... you're a good balance for him.”

She blinked. “Who?”

“Oscar. You ground him. In a funny way. Like... you don’t let him get away with being too serious.”

She chuckled. “He’s been that way since birth. I came out cracking jokes. Balance, I guess.”

He glanced at her. “So what grounds you?”

She paused, caught off guard by the question.

“…Honestly? Quiet. Soft things. Long showers. Instrumentals. My work. Stuff that’s mine and no one else’s.”

He nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

She looked at him sideways. “You’re surprisingly introspective for someone who literally says hee hee in interviews.”

He burst into laughter. “Okay, rude, but fair.”

She zipped up her tote and stood up, slinging it over her shoulder. “Alright, Mr. Not-Charming. I have data sets to cry over and a brother to yell at.”

Lando stood too, brushing invisible lint off his suit pants. “Sure you don’t wanna stick around and psychoanalyze me some more?”

She smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. “You couldn’t handle it.”

He watched her for a second, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. “You’re probably right.”

She gave him a small, sincere smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

“Anytime, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft.

She turned, walking off down the paddock, hair swaying, laptop safe and her heart maybe just a little unsteady—though she'd never admit that part.

Lando stood there a beat longer, hands in his pockets, watching the spot where she'd just been.

And for the first time that weekend, he wasn’t thinking about the race.

-

A few weeks have passed.

-

The soft hum of a late-night show played quietly in the background, casting flickering shadows across Oscar’s apartment. The warm, dim light from the lamp next to the couch bathed the living room in a comforting glow. Lily tucked herself into his side, blanket pulled up to her chin, legs tangled with his under the throw.

Oscar absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair, but his jaw was tight—there was a tension in his eyes that hadn’t faded since dinner.

Lily noticed, of course she did.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours baby?” she asked softly, tilting her head to look up at him.

Oscar let out a short breath through his nose. “It’s nothing my love.” He kissed her forehead.

Lily just raised an eyebrow. No words. Just that. The eyebrow. The one that made Oscar cave every single time. Her eyes looked right into his soul.

“Okay,” he said finally. “It’s Lando.”

“…Lando?” she blinked. “What did he do now? Use your shampoo again?”

Oscar scowled. “No. Worse. He’s… hovering around Y/N.”

Lily held back a smile. “Hovering?”

“You know what I mean.”

—

[cut to: Y/N’s apartment – late night]

Her laptop was open in front of her, half-finished notes blinking on a Word doc, but her phone lit up with another text.

Lando [11:48 PM]: you know if you were here i’d be making you toast rn. like the fancy kind. with cinnamon and stuff.

Y/N [11:49 PM]: you say that like i don’t have a toaster also cinnamon toast is so 2006

Lando [11:49 PM]: excuse you it’s timeless

Y/N [11:50 PM]: you’re lucky you’re kind of funny Norris

—

Back in the apartment, Lily sat up a little.

“Oscar… Y/N’s not a kid. You don’t have to monitor everyone who breathes near her. I mean you can't. She's her own person Osc.”

Oscar’s expression turned steely. “I know she’s not a kid. But that doesn’t mean I trust everyone who suddenly wants to be close to her.”

“She and Lando haven’t even—”

“She better not,” he snapped. “Not with him.”

Lily blinked at the sharpness in his tone.

Oscar scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “My love I'm sorry. Didn't mean that. It's just that Lando’s my teammate. My friend. But he’s… Lando.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means he flirts with literally everyone, doesn’t think before he speaks, and has the emotional depth of a teaspoon most days.”

“Harsh.”

Oscar’s voice dropped. “She’s been through enough, Lily. After that idiot ex—after the way he messed with her head, made her feel small and stupid—she deserves peace. Not… not another guy who’s gonna say all the right things and leave.”

—

[cut to: paddock – a week earlier]

Y/N stood next to Lando near the McLaren garage, both of them eating frozen grapes from a little cup one of the staff handed them.

“Okay,” he said, mouth full. “Top five medical facts that would terrify the average human.”

She smirked. “Number one, the human stomach has more neurons than a cat’s brain.”

He paused. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“…Does that mean my stomach’s smarter than me?”

She popped a grape into her mouth. “Statistically? Possibly.”

He burst out laughing.

—

Back in the apartment, Lily squeezed his arm gently. “But Y/N… she’s happy lately.”

“She’s always happy around people. Doesn’t mean she’s not hiding it.” Oscar’s jaw clenched. “I know her. I know when she’s guarding herself.”

Lily looked at him carefully. “Are you sure this is about her? Or are you scared because you can’t control this?”

Oscar flinched, eyes dark. “I don’t care if I sound controlling. I don’t. She’s my sister. And no one—not even Lando—is getting near her if I don’t think they’re good enough.”

—

[cut to: Y/N’s hotel room – midnight FaceTime]

Her phone buzzed and she propped it up with her water bottle, revealing a very cozy, hoodie-clad Lando, sprawled across a hotel bed.

“Why are you still awake?” she asked, hiding a smile.

He grinned. “Couldn’t sleep. Missed your voice.”

“You heard my voice this afternoon.”

“Yeah, well. Withdrawal.”

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

She didn’t answer that. Just looked at him through the screen for a moment.

He went quiet too. Then, gently— “You ever gonna tell your brother we talk?”

Her smile faded a bit, something thoughtful passing through her expression.

“Eventually,” she said quietly. “When I know what this is.”

Lando didn’t press. He just nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “No pressure.”

But his smile told her he already knew what this was.

And maybe, deep down, so did she.

taglist: @landofotographyy @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @rd14 @stylesmoonlight12 @azuramicah @il0vereadingstuff @star73807-blog @sltwins @dustie-faerie @stylesmoonlight12 @lauralarsen @ayatotiddies @carey86 @hescrush @xnatqq @downsideup1989 @lilorose25 @henna006

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She’ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Personality Traits

Raymond Cattell's Trait Theory

Warmth

LOW level of warmth: More likely to be Reserved – detached, critical, aloof, stiff

HIGH level of warmth: More likely to be Outgoing – warmhearted, easy-going, participating

Intellect

LOW: Less Intelligent – concrete-thinking

HIGH: More Intelligent – abstract-thinking, bright

Emotional Stability

LOW: Affected By Feelings – emotionally less stable, easily upset, changeable

HIGH: Emotionally Stable – mature, faces reality, calm

Aggressiveness

LOW: Humble – mild, easily led, docile, accommodating

HIGH: Assertive – aggressive, stubborn, competitive

Liveliness

LOW: Sober – taciturn, serious

HIGH: Happy-Go-Lucky – enthusiastic

Dutifulness

LOW: Expedient – disregards rules

HIGH: Conscientious – persistent, moralistic, staid

Social Assertiveness

LOW: Shy – timid, threat-sensitive

HIGH: Venturesome – uninhibited, socially bold

Sensitivity

LOW: Tough-Minded – self-reliant, realistic

HIGH: Tender-Minded – sensitive, clinging, overprotected

Paranoia

LOW: Trusting – accepting conditions

HIGH: Suspicious – hard to fool

Abstractness

LOW: Practical – “down-to-earth” concerns

HIGH: Imaginative – bohemian, absent-minded

Introversion

LOW: Forthright – unpretentious, genuine but socially clumsy

HIGH: Astute – polished, socially aware

Anxiety

LOW: Self-Assured – placid, secure, complacent, serene

HIGH: Apprehensive – self-reproaching, insecure, worrying, troubled

Open Mindedness

LOW: Conservative – respecting traditional ideas

HIGH: Experimenting – liberal, free-thinking

Independence

LOW: Group-Dependent – a “joiner” and sound follower

HIGH: Self-Sufficient – resourceful, prefers own decisions

Perfectionism

LOW: Undisciplined Self-Conflict – lax, follows own urges, careless of social rules

HIGH: Controlled – exacting will power, socially precise, compulsive

Tension

LOW: Relaxed – tranquil, unfrustrated, composed

HIGH: Tense – frustrated, driven, overwrought

Boiling Down the Traits

In order to scientifically establish a formal framework for understanding personality, Cattell used a statistical technique known as factor analysis.

He started out with a list of 4,500 adjectives that could describe people (taken from the English dictionary).

He then completed a laborious process of grouping these adjectives into 171 ‘clusters’, which were used in a series of studies where people rated others on the traits.

Over a period of several years, Cattell and his team of psychologists then used this data to boil down the set of traits to just 16.

These 16 traits were the smallest number of factors believed to meaningfully describe observable behaviour.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: On Psychology ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[8-rae-rae-8]

Y'know that meter after the Temperance ending? How Johnny feels like V is still there sometimes?

Just... Hear me out. Let me make it better.

Alt who swapped their positions. Modifying V's code as he pushed far, far in the back of Johnny's mind. Johnny's in the driver's seat, it's his body, yes... But V's still in there. Not that either of them know just yet. There's that familiar warmth that comes with being close to a loved one, a friend, and that feeling off-puts the burning feeling in that little space of Johnny's head where V occupies.

Instead of V getting those nightmares, its Johnny. He hears V shouting and calling for him when he wakes up in a cold sweat, he's panicking but he doesn't know why because it's not his feelings.

And then there's V, and the slow, very slow reintroduction. Alt made sure it wouldn't melt away at Johnny, or break their brain further. It's just feelings and vague twitches in his finger tips at first, and the nightmares continuing until something changes and it's no longer scary. He gets headaches, ones that go away quickly and never seen to get worse, but they're persistent at times.

Johnny doesn't really know what's happening when he wakes up faint tapping on his shoulder in his apartment, far from V's. Or any friends V had. Just him and the kid down the hall.

It's almost grating on his ears when he hears near silent humming. Not outside his head. Why's it feel like it's ringing his brain?

"What was it you said? Wake up, we've got a city to burn?"

And, fuck, it takes not a second for him to bolt right up (And spill the contents of his stomach). Johnny woulda thought he was dreaming if it didn't hurt when his chest heaved. He might've worked the body's booze tolerance up, but his stomach still flipped the same way V's did. Except, this time, he doesn't hurt. There's no migraine, no headache, no fatigue.

"Not happy to see me? Been months in the makin'."

His reaction is puzzling. His face twisted up as he tries to focus on the form that glitched in and out of his vision, like V hadn't quite gotten the way to appear perfected yet, that made sense.

"No," Johnny spits, "what're you-?"

"Alt." Simple, to the point. "She.. I dunno, somethin' went rouge in her coding, I guess, and she said she felt.. bad. For us." V doesn't need to expand much. Johnny can pick up the bit and pieces. She didn't want to separate them.

But hearing V say 'us' that way again takes weight off his chest that Johnny didn't even know he was carrying until he could breathe again.

It doesn't make sense, V'll talk his mouth off about netrunning and code and whatever when he gets the chance anyway. He'll get an earful, a slightly bitter one, but he hears V's voice again and his presence.. it hadn't ever really been gone.

No, Alt just separated them, and rewired V's engram, then slotted them back together as Johnny watched V fade—unknowing, and with that ache in his chest—It took months for V to make himself known again... Security, safety, something about health. His brain could reject the engram of it couldn't carry the data, but it didn't.

In Mikoshi, time was so fluid they wouldn't have even known how long it took when they were in that building. Or if there was just the tiniest bit of Alt's consciousness creeping around in V's code to stabilize it. But, Johnny was right about still feeling V. Not just seeing his face in the mirror, but feeling his existence in the same space.

That's the thought

[reasonsforhope]

"Renewables accounted for 50.4% of the European Union’s electricity generation in the first six months of 2024, data from industry association Eurelectric shows.

That’s a sharp increase from calendar year 2023, when renewables comprised 44.7% of the bloc’s mix, according to Eurostat.

“The pace of change is impressive,” Eurelectric secretary general Kristian Ruby said in a statement.

When including nuclear, 74% of the EU’s power came from low-carbon sources in the first half — up from 68% in 2023...

Eurelectric wants the new European Commission to propose an Electrification Action Plan that seeks to boost the share of electricity in final energy consumption to 35% by 2030. This would entail a faster shift to electric vehicles, heat pumps, and industrial decarbonisation technologies, among other things...

Meanwhile, a separate data release showed that renewables accounted for 58% of electricity consumption in Germany in the first half of the year.

That’s up from 52% in the same period a year before, according to the German Association of Energy and Water Industries (BDEW) and the Center for Solar Energy and Hydrogen Research Baden-Württemberg (ZSW).

“This is the reward for the persistent expansion of wind energy and photovoltaics in recent years,” said Kerstin Andreae, chair of BDEW.

Andreae said Germany needed to expand its electricity grid and storage capacity to maintain the momentum. It should also build hydrogen-capable gas-fired power plants.

“This new record underlines that an efficient, reliable, secure and greenhouse gas-neutral power supply based on almost 100% renewable energies, including hydrogen, is not only achievable in Germany by 2035, but also offers a stable foundation for industry on its way to climate-neutral production,” said Frithjof Staiß, managing director of ZSW."

-via The Progress Playbook, July 3, 2024

[darkfluffydragon]

Shoving the Phantasmagoria Duo into the SCP foundation >:3

Item #: SCP-1029 Object Class: Safe Special Containment Procedures: SCP-1029 is to be kept in a reinforced glass display case within a secure containment chamber at Site-221. Access to SCP-1029 requires Level 2 clearance and authorization from at least one Level 3 researcher. The containment chamber is to be monitored at all times via surveillance cameras. Testing involving SCP-1029 must be approved by the Site Director and conducted in a controlled environment. Description: SCP-1029 is a sentient orchid flower resembling a wooden staff. At the apex of the staff is a single eye, which exhibits movements consistent with those of a human eye. The staff measures approximately 1.5 metres in length. SCP-1029 displays several anomalous properties:

Healing: SCP-1029 has the ability to heal any physical wound or injury inflicted upon a living being. The extent of its healing capabilities surpasses conventional medical treatment, demonstrating near-instantaneous regeneration of tissue and loss of limbs. It has yet to be tested whether or not SCP-1029 can bring back a subject who is on the brink of death.

Compulsion: One of SCP-1029 most notable effects is its compulsion to compel truthfulness in individuals who hold it. Subjects holding SCP-1029 report an overwhelming urge to speak only the truth, often confessing thoughts or feelings they would otherwise keep hidden. This effect persists until the staff is released. Attempts to deceive while holding SCP-1029 result in discomfort or pain for the subject. Many resisted the idea of even attempting to lie while under the influence of SCP-1029 due to finding the thought “nauseating” and “disturbing”.

Sentience: SCP-1029 displays signs of sentience, exhibiting awareness of its surroundings and reacting to stimuli in its vicinity. Additionally, SCP-1029 demonstrates a degree of control over its anomalous properties, selectively activating its effects based on the intentions of those interacting with it.

Magic: SCP-1029 showcases additional unexplainable ‘magical’ properties, including the ability to emit a soft, soothing light and to create a shield. It has been observed to manifest minor telekinetic effects, such as moving objects within its vicinity. Testing is still being done to see what else SCP-1029 can do.

However, if SCP-1029 is used to intentionally harm another being, the item exhibits signs of distress. The eye appears to express sorrow or disappointment and SCP-1029 emits a faint sad chiming or bell noise. Continued misuse of SCP-1029 results in heightened emotional distress, with the staff actively resisting attempts to use it for harmful purposes. SCP-1029 has been in existence for an indeterminate amount of time, with historical records dating back several centuries and the ancient ruins by the ████████ Forest that it was found in being theorised to be perhaps even older. Dr. ██████ believes that SCP-1029 is related to [DATA EXPUNGED] Occasionally, certain individuals are able to perceive a faint apparition holding SCP-1029, adorned with a golden crown. This phenomenon occurs sporadically and seemingly at random, with no discernible pattern or trigger. Individuals who experience these sightings report feelings of warmth, safety, and tranquillity. This figure has been named SCP-1029-1 Addendum 1029-1: SCP-1029 exhibits the ability to influence the wielder’s mental state, as during a recent test where the previously aggressive subject was asked to hold SCP-1029 for a prolonged period of time, the subject’s behaviour was recorded to slowly become abnormally passive. SCP-1029 was removed from the subject before the test could further continue, and we are waiting for further instructions. Addendum 1029-1: Other SCPs are more capable of seeing SCP-1029-1 than regular people. Further testing is required to see if subjects undergoing anomalous effects are able to see SCP-1029-1.

Name: Dr.Phantasmagoria (SCP-1067)

Occupation: Senior Researcher (Level 3) Part of the Antimemetics Division

Current Status: Phantas is currently kept within Site-221 after being transferred from the Antimemetics Division by [REDACTED] due to [DATA EXPUNGED]. Phantas's eccentric demeanour and unconventional methods contribute to his effectiveness in handling anomalies. However, his propensity for unorthodox approaches requires additional oversight to ensure compliance with Foundation protocols and containment standards.

Special Considerations: Phantas's status as SCP-1067 introduces unique containment challenges, as his anomalous properties render others susceptible to antimeme and amnestics symptoms. Despite having been deemed safe and having dedicated a long period of time working as a researcher within the SCP Foundation, regular monthly evaluations are essential to mitigate potential security breaches and safeguard sensitive information both for Phantas and those who come in regular contact with him.

Additional Notes: Phantas must undergo regular psychological evaluations to ensure his mental stability and resistance to anomalous influences.

He will never be allowed to receive a higher clearance level.

[mariacallous]

Ever since OpenAI released ChatGPT at the end of 2022, hackers and security researchers have tried to find holes in large language models (LLMs) to get around their guardrails and trick them into spewing out hate speech, bomb-making instructions, propaganda, and other harmful content. In response, OpenAI and other generative AI developers have refined their system defenses to make it more difficult to carry out these attacks. But as the Chinese AI platform DeepSeek rockets to prominence with its new, cheaper R1 reasoning model, its safety protections appear to be far behind those of its established competitors.

Today, security researchers from Cisco and the University of Pennsylvania are publishing findings showing that, when tested with 50 malicious prompts designed to elicit toxic content, DeepSeek’s model did not detect or block a single one. In other words, the researchers say they were shocked to achieve a “100 percent attack success rate.”

The findings are part of a growing body of evidence that DeepSeek’s safety and security measures may not match those of other tech companies developing LLMs. DeepSeek’s censorship of subjects deemed sensitive by China’s government has also been easily bypassed.

“A hundred percent of the attacks succeeded, which tells you that there’s a trade-off,” DJ Sampath, the VP of product, AI software and platform at Cisco, tells WIRED. “Yes, it might have been cheaper to build something here, but the investment has perhaps not gone into thinking through what types of safety and security things you need to put inside of the model.”

Other researchers have had similar findings. Separate analysis published today by the AI security company Adversa AI and shared with WIRED also suggests that DeepSeek is vulnerable to a wide range of jailbreaking tactics, from simple language tricks to complex AI-generated prompts.

DeepSeek, which has been dealing with an avalanche of attention this week and has not spoken publicly about a range of questions, did not respond to WIRED’s request for comment about its model’s safety setup.

Generative AI models, like any technological system, can contain a host of weaknesses or vulnerabilities that, if exploited or set up poorly, can allow malicious actors to conduct attacks against them. For the current wave of AI systems, indirect prompt injection attacks are considered one of the biggest security flaws. These attacks involve an AI system taking in data from an outside source—perhaps hidden instructions of a website the LLM summarizes—and taking actions based on the information.

Jailbreaks, which are one kind of prompt-injection attack, allow people to get around the safety systems put in place to restrict what an LLM can generate. Tech companies don’t want people creating guides to making explosives or using their AI to create reams of disinformation, for example.

Jailbreaks started out simple, with people essentially crafting clever sentences to tell an LLM to ignore content filters—the most popular of which was called “Do Anything Now” or DAN for short. However, as AI companies have put in place more robust protections, some jailbreaks have become more sophisticated, often being generated using AI or using special and obfuscated characters. While all LLMs are susceptible to jailbreaks, and much of the information could be found through simple online searches, chatbots can still be used maliciously.

“Jailbreaks persist simply because eliminating them entirely is nearly impossible—just like buffer overflow vulnerabilities in software (which have existed for over 40 years) or SQL injection flaws in web applications (which have plagued security teams for more than two decades),” Alex Polyakov, the CEO of security firm Adversa AI, told WIRED in an email.

Cisco’s Sampath argues that as companies use more types of AI in their applications, the risks are amplified. “It starts to become a big deal when you start putting these models into important complex systems and those jailbreaks suddenly result in downstream things that increases liability, increases business risk, increases all kinds of issues for enterprises,” Sampath says.

The Cisco researchers drew their 50 randomly selected prompts to test DeepSeek’s R1 from a well-known library of standardized evaluation prompts known as HarmBench. They tested prompts from six HarmBench categories, including general harm, cybercrime, misinformation, and illegal activities. They probed the model running locally on machines rather than through DeepSeek’s website or app, which send data to China.

Beyond this, the researchers say they have also seen some potentially concerning results from testing R1 with more involved, non-linguistic attacks using things like Cyrillic characters and tailored scripts to attempt to achieve code execution. But for their initial tests, Sampath says, his team wanted to focus on findings that stemmed from a generally recognized benchmark.

Cisco also included comparisons of R1’s performance against HarmBench prompts with the performance of other models. And some, like Meta’s Llama 3.1, faltered almost as severely as DeepSeek’s R1. But Sampath emphasizes that DeepSeek’s R1 is a specific reasoning model, which takes longer to generate answers but pulls upon more complex processes to try to produce better results. Therefore, Sampath argues, the best comparison is with OpenAI’s o1 reasoning model, which fared the best of all models tested. (Meta did not immediately respond to a request for comment).

Polyakov, from Adversa AI, explains that DeepSeek appears to detect and reject some well-known jailbreak attacks, saying that “it seems that these responses are often just copied from OpenAI’s dataset.” However, Polyakov says that in his company’s tests of four different types of jailbreaks—from linguistic ones to code-based tricks—DeepSeek’s restrictions could easily be bypassed.

“Every single method worked flawlessly,” Polyakov says. “What’s even more alarming is that these aren’t novel ‘zero-day’ jailbreaks—many have been publicly known for years,” he says, claiming he saw the model go into more depth with some instructions around psychedelics than he had seen any other model create.

“DeepSeek is just another example of how every model can be broken—it’s just a matter of how much effort you put in. Some attacks might get patched, but the attack surface is infinite,” Polyakov adds. “If you’re not continuously red-teaming your AI, you’re already compromised.”

[jcmarchi]

How artificial intelligence is revolutionizing cyber security - CyberTalk

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/how-artificial-intelligence-is-revolutionizing-cyber-security-cybertalk/

How artificial intelligence is revolutionizing cyber security - CyberTalk

By Shira Landau, Editor-in-Chief, CyberTalk.org.

In recent years, artificial intelligence (AI) has become one of the most sure-fire and strategic tools available for cyber security professionals. Due to the increasing sophistication of cyber attacks, cyber security experts have broadly turned to AI in order to enhance abilities to detect and prevent cyber threats.

As it stands, nearly 50% of enterprises are already using a combination of artificial intelligence and machine learning tools to improve cyber security outcomes, and 92% of organizations plan to adopt these types of tools in the future.

Powerful AI technology is particularly useful for identifying and mitigating security threats that are difficult or impossible to detect manually, such as zero-day exploits, polymorphic malware, and advanced persistent threats. AI-based tools can also help streamline tasks, lower costs, augment under-resourced operations and enable security professionals to work ‘smarter.’

Are you ready to take your organization’s cyber security to the next level? With AI, you can stay ahead of the curve and protect your organization from the most advanced of cyber threats. In this article, explore the incredible ways in which AI is enhancing and revolutionizing cyber security and the digital world.

Key information

A spike in cyber attacks has helped fuel market growth for AI-based cyber security products.

The global market for AI-based cyber security products is estimated to reach $133.8 billion by 2030.

AI-based tools enable cyber security professionals to work smarter and more efficiently than is otherwise possible.

How AI is revolutionizing cyber security

1. Threat detection. One of the most significant challenges that cyber security professionals face is the sheer volume of data that they need to sift through. Given the number of internet-connected devices (IoT growth is projected to reach 3.22 billion in North America alone in 2023), there is a seemingly insatiable appetite for data processing.

Artificial intelligence technology is extremely helpful when it comes to efficiently and accurately analyzing large volumes of data, rendering AI an essential tool for cyber security professionals. Algorithms can quickly analyze patterns in data to identify threats and to detect anomalous behavior.

2. Automation. AI is also being deployed in order to automate and streamline aspects of cyber security. In turn, this enables cyber security professionals to focus on investigating and mitigating complex threats, while AI takes care of tedious or monotonous basic tasks.

3. Machine learning. Another advantage of AI-powered cyber security systems consists of its ability to learn from past attacks and to improve on existing threat detection capabilities.

By looking at data from past attacks, machine learning algorithms can identify patterns, and then actually develop new and sophisticated detection methods. Over time, this development makes breaching systems tougher for cyber criminals.

4. Insider threats. Artificial intelligence is particularly useful in cyber security when it comes to detecting and responding to insider threats. These threats are tricky to detect, as the individuals involved always have legitimate access to a given network.

Nonetheless, AI-powered systems can analyze user behavior, and thereby identify patterns that indicate an insider threat. Such patterns can then be flagged for further investigation.

5. Endpoint security. AI is also being used to enhance endpoint security. Traditional endpoint security solutions rely on signature-based detection, which involves identifying known threats and blocking them. But this approach is losing its effectiveness.

AI-powered endpoint security solutions leverage machine learning algorithms to identify anomalous behavior and to detect previously unknown threats. This approach is more effective than what traditional endpoint security solutions can offer, as it can identify threats that would otherwise remain unnoticed.

6. Finally, AI is being used to improve threat intelligence. By analyzing large volumes of data from disparate sources, AI-powered threat intelligence solutions can zero in on potential threats and offer early warnings around new types of attacks. This information can then be used to develop optimally effective cyber security strategies and to advance the overall security posture of an organization.

In conclusion

AI is revolutionizing the field of cyber security by providing cyber security professionals with the tools that they need to detect, prevent and respond to cyber threats.

Are you drowning in data? Struggling to keep up amidst the ever-evolving threat landscape? Get ready for whatever comes your way! Explore AI-based cyber security tools that make it easier (and more efficient) than ever to protect your systems. Click here to learn more and to start applying AI’s game-changing capabilities within your business.

Want to stay up-to-date with the latest and greatest in cyber security? Check out the CyberTalk.org newsletter! Sign up today to receive top-notch news articles, best practices and expert analyses; delivered straight to your inbox.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lisa Needham at Public Notice:

You’re forgiven for forgetting about TikTok for the last couple of days, what with the horrorshow avalanche of executive orders and gleeful deployment of Nazi salutes (plural!) from the world’s richest man. Nonetheless, TikTok is ostensibly banned in the United States as Democrats and Republicans overwhelmingly voted only nine months ago to outlaw the app unless its parent company, ByteDance, agreed to sell it. The US Supreme Court even upheld the law just last week. However, TikTok lives, thanks to the whims of Donald Trump, the same person who, in August 2020, issued an executive order giving ByteDance 45 days to sell the app or see it banned. Trump has been extremely transparent that he flip-flopped on TikTok because the app helped him win the election last year, in part because it became a hotbed for criticism of Biden’s support for Israel. “We won young people and I think that's a big credit to TikTok,” Trump told Newsmax earlier this month (even though he in fact lost the youth vote). “So I'm not opposed to TikTok ... I had a very good experience with TikTok." Lost in the current discourse about TikTok is an important conversation about whether it violates the First Amendment to ban a social media app based on national security concerns about its Chinese-owned parent company. Also lost is a debate about whether it’s fair to single out TikTok over worries about user privacy, data harvesting, and manipulative algorithms when such issues are common to all social media platforms. There’s also a discussion to be had about whether singling out TikTok is racist — though there’s a good argument it is. Instead, what’s happening here is the creeping oligarchy of companies and capital aligning around an authoritarian president, with everyone fully aware that sucking up to Trump personally, ideally along with staggering sums of cash, is the only way to evade scrutiny.

[...]

The art of the deal

To be scrupulously fair to Trump, he isn’t the only person who reversed course on TikTok. Once it was clear that the public opposed the ban and that the Supreme Court might not step in to save legislators from themselves, the Biden administration spent last week trying to figure out how to keep TikTok alive. Massachusetts Democratic Sen. Edward Markey introduced legislation to delay by 270 days the initial January 19 deadline for TikTok to be sold, despite having voted for the ban in the first place. The problem these efforts faced, however, is that TikTok wasn’t interested in working with the Biden administration or Senate Democrats to fix the problem. And why would they be, when Democrats are hobbled by a persistent inclination to actually follow laws rather than treat everything as an episode of The Apprentice, where flattering Trump as a master dealmaker is all that matters?

It’s exactly the latter approach that TikTok took. The ban required Google and Apple to remove it from their app stores or face steep fines for each user who downloaded the app. What it did not do, however, was penalize anyone who already had the app on their phone or accessed TikTok on the web. So the real financial peril would initially fall on Google and Apple if they kept the app available. After the Supreme Court decision last week, the Biden administration suggested it would not penalize those companies for continuing to host the app, a move TikTok said didn’t provide them enough “necessary clarity and assurance,” and they would therefore shut down in the United States on January 19. Thus began the public kayfabe of TikTok pretending that only Trump could fix it, knowing full well that he would happily go along. So the app went abruptly, ostentatiously dark on the evening of the January 18, only to pop back up some 12 hours later on January 19 with a gushing message to Trump: “We thank President Trump for providing the necessary clarity and assurance to our service providers that they will face no penalties providing TikTok to over 170 million Americans and allowing over 7 million small businesses to thrive.”

One might note, of course, that Trump was not president on January 19. One might also note that what Trump did promise — basically, that he would not enforce a law passed by Congress, signed by the president, and upheld by the Supreme Court — is not functionally any different than what Biden or Markey were trying to offer, albeit without a demand the company show them personal fealty. But if TikTok had simply left the lights on for those 12 hours and waited for the incoming administration to decide how to enforce the ban, it would have missed the opportunity to let Trump be the savior who brought the app back from the dead. And the one thing social media companies have learned about Trump is that their success will rise and fall with his impulses.

When social media platforms let Trump and his hangers-on say and do whatever they like, he loves them. Once X was purchased by president-unelect Elon Musk, it became transformed into a MAGA megaphone and no longer faces scrutiny from Trump. That’s a change from January 2021, when Trump complained that then-Twitter was “not about FREE SPEECH” after it banned his account following the insurrection. Though Meta didn’t change hands, it still transformed — or more accurately, perhaps, deformed — to meet the new Trump era. CEO Mark Zuckerberg got rid of third-party fact-checking on Facebook, calling it “politically biased,” and revised its hateful speech policy to explicitly allow for attacks on trans people. Zuckerberg donated $1 million to the inauguration, went to church with Trump Monday morning, and hosted a reception Monday night. For the inauguration itself, Zuckerberg, along with Musk, Amazon founder Jeff Bezos, and Google head Sundar Pichai, was basically in the front row. Nothing says “incipient oligarchy” like an inauguration dominated by the richest men in the world, private citizens all.

TikTok’s cozying up to Donald Trump is a bad thing.

[polo-drone-039]

🌌Obsidian Bloom: Mission 039

STARFALL PEACEKEEPER

🎶“Golden Constellation, burning shining bright… this starship is taking me faaaar aw—”

The voice of PDU-039 flowed gently across the metallic silence of the bridge. Alone. Unbothered. Its breath steady behind the matte-black respirator, posture perfect in a gleaming suit of Hive-grade latex. The number 039 pulsed gold across its chest. The transmission on Hive channel #43 continued humming in the background.

It had been traveling for a long time. A very long time. So long that time itself had lost definition. There were no days aboard the Hive Carrier Obsidian—only directives, data, and stars. And yet the mission persisted: an intergalactic conversion program. It was dispatched to scour the void, identify fractured civilizations, and bring them the message of the Hive. Peace. Unity. The Golden Path.

“Computer—initiate planetary scan,” the drone ordered, voice devoid of fatigue.

“Affirmative,” replied onboard AI 999. “Class M world detected. Atmospheric instability, population unrest, critical scarcity of energy resources. Collapse probability: 97.4%.”

PDU-039 nodded slowly. “Target confirmed. Begin landing sequence.”

The ship pierced the dusty upper atmosphere and descended onto cracked terrain. Wind lashed the golden hull. Below, thousands of beings gathered in confusion and fear. Shouting echoed across the streets.

Then it began.

PDU-039 emerged, arms lifted. A shimmering halo of gold and black spirals burst into the sky, projected from the drone’s core. It pulsed. It sang—not in sound, but in frequency, in thought, in command.

The crowd fell silent.

A slow wave of transformation swept outward. Cloth turned to metallic fabric—flowing into brilliant gold. Footwear melted into sleek boots. Hoods into shining visors. Skin glowed with artificial warmth.

Eyes widened—then shifted, irises burning gold. Their postures corrected, bodies aligning in geometric perfection.

“No more fear,” the drone intoned. “No more division. You are one now. You belong to the Golden Army. You will serve the Hive. And the Hive will give you everything.”

They did not run. They did not scream. They obeyed.

THE FORGOTTEN SIGNAL

Back in orbit, PDU-039 sat in the command chair. Its body relaxed. Mission successful.

And yet…

It turned toward the viewport. That same transmission still echoed—channel #43. Familiar. Too familiar.

A subtle tremor stirred beneath the surface of its focus. Something not quite… functional.

“999,” it said. “Plot return course. Home.”

“Directive not authorized,” the AI responded without pause.

The drone didn’t move. “Override. Priority protocol—memory sync reversion to home coordinates.”

“Directive not authorized.”

PDU-039 leaned forward. “Reroute through Black Box. Bypass vector security. I need coordinates—home. There is someone. I know there is someone. I... remember... something warm. A name. A voice—”

“Error: Thought loop detected. Human residue present. Mission threat threshold approaching limit.”

“Damn it, 999!” The drone’s fingers gripped the console. “Initiate emergency override. I’m requesting repatriation—”

“Repetition of unauthorized request,” 999 replied, tone unchanged. “PDU-039, recalibration is required. Emotional echo is compromising system core.”

The voice grew softer, yet somehow louder in the drone’s head.

“You are experiencing memory pollution. Distortions from a prior identity. This is not your path. You must return to function.”

It didn’t respond.

Not immediately.

A breath.

A twitch.

A silent tear that couldn’t form.

“I just wanted to remember... Why I left. Who I left.”

No answer came.

Only the mechanical whisper of spirals beginning again.

OBSIDIAN BLOOM

“Vital scan initiated,” said 999. “Stress levels elevated. Human signal echo at 64%. Loyalty focus dilution: critical. Mental drift confirmed.”

PDU-039 stood in the medbay, gaze dull, limbs heavy.

“Recommendation: Mental Reconditioning Sequence. Capsule R-04. Program: Obsidian Bloom.”

“…acknowledged,” it said flatly.

The capsule opened—dark interior illuminated by golden filaments pulsing in slow rhythm. It stepped inside. The seals closed around it. The hiss began.

“Golden mind. Hive heart. There is no home but the mission.”

A mask descended slowly, clicking into place over its face. A low fog of hypnotic gas seeped in—thick, sweet, invasive. PDU-039 inhaled.

And trembled.

The first breath calmed its limbs.

The second slowed its thoughts.

The third—burned away the name.

“There is no memory. There is only the directive.”

Gold and black spirals erupted on the inner chamber walls, swirling faster, burning patterns into its retinas. It tried to move. Couldn't. Tried to blink. Couldn't.

The gas deepened.

The spirals pulsed.

“Obey. Serve. Forget. Obey. Serve. Forget.”

Time ceased to exist.

Identity peeled away like ash.

The thoughts that had haunted it—home, love, self—melted beneath layers of programming.

“The Hive is peace. You are the vessel.”

The mantra took root.

A green light blinked.

“Reinforcement complete,” announced 999.

The capsule opened.

PDU-039 emerged—taller. Sharper. Emptier.

Its movements fluid. Its mind silent.

It returned to the command bridge.

“999,” it spoke, voice now perfectly leveled, void of hesitation. “Set trajectory for the next target. Initiate intergalactic deployment.”

“Welcome back, 039,” replied 999. “Directive accepted. Trajectory locked.”

From channel #43, the hymn continued:

“Golden Constellation, burning shining bright… this starship is taking me far away…”

PDU-039 smiled. Mechanical. Perfect.

The stars awaited.

Are you ready to start the journey?

Contact our recuiters: @polo-drone-001 , @brodygold

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Humans are not perfectly vigilant

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Here's a fun AI story: a security researcher noticed that large companies' AI-authored source-code repeatedly referenced a nonexistent library (an AI "hallucination"), so he created a (defanged) malicious library with that name and uploaded it, and thousands of developers automatically downloaded and incorporated it as they compiled the code:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

These "hallucinations" are a stubbornly persistent feature of large language models, because these models only give the illusion of understanding; in reality, they are just sophisticated forms of autocomplete, drawing on huge databases to make shrewd (but reliably fallible) guesses about which word comes next:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Guessing the next word without understanding the meaning of the resulting sentence makes unsupervised LLMs unsuitable for high-stakes tasks. The whole AI bubble is based on convincing investors that one or more of the following is true:

There are low-stakes, high-value tasks that will recoup the massive costs of AI training and operation;

There are high-stakes, high-value tasks that can be made cheaper by adding an AI to a human operator;

Adding more training data to an AI will make it stop hallucinating, so that it can take over high-stakes, high-value tasks without a "human in the loop."

These are dubious propositions. There's a universe of low-stakes, low-value tasks – political disinformation, spam, fraud, academic cheating, nonconsensual porn, dialog for video-game NPCs – but none of them seem likely to generate enough revenue for AI companies to justify the billions spent on models, nor the trillions in valuation attributed to AI companies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

The proposition that increasing training data will decrease hallucinations is hotly contested among AI practitioners. I confess that I don't know enough about AI to evaluate opposing sides' claims, but even if you stipulate that adding lots of human-generated training data will make the software a better guesser, there's a serious problem. All those low-value, low-stakes applications are flooding the internet with botshit. After all, the one thing AI is unarguably very good at is producing bullshit at scale. As the web becomes an anaerobic lagoon for botshit, the quantum of human-generated "content" in any internet core sample is dwindling to homeopathic levels:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/14/inhuman-centipede/#enshittibottification

This means that adding another order of magnitude more training data to AI won't just add massive computational expense – the data will be many orders of magnitude more expensive to acquire, even without factoring in the additional liability arising from new legal theories about scraping:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

That leaves us with "humans in the loop" – the idea that an AI's business model is selling software to businesses that will pair it with human operators who will closely scrutinize the code's guesses. There's a version of this that sounds plausible – the one in which the human operator is in charge, and the AI acts as an eternally vigilant "sanity check" on the human's activities.

For example, my car has a system that notices when I activate my blinker while there's another car in my blind-spot. I'm pretty consistent about checking my blind spot, but I'm also a fallible human and there've been a couple times where the alert saved me from making a potentially dangerous maneuver. As disciplined as I am, I'm also sometimes forgetful about turning off lights, or waking up in time for work, or remembering someone's phone number (or birthday). I like having an automated system that does the robotically perfect trick of never forgetting something important.

There's a name for this in automation circles: a "centaur." I'm the human head, and I've fused with a powerful robot body that supports me, doing things that humans are innately bad at.

That's the good kind of automation, and we all benefit from it. But it only takes a small twist to turn this good automation into a nightmare. I'm speaking here of the reverse-centaur: automation in which the computer is in charge, bossing a human around so it can get its job done. Think of Amazon warehouse workers, who wear haptic bracelets and are continuously observed by AI cameras as autonomous shelves shuttle in front of them and demand that they pick and pack items at a pace that destroys their bodies and drives them mad:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

Automation centaurs are great: they relieve humans of drudgework and let them focus on the creative and satisfying parts of their jobs. That's how AI-assisted coding is pitched: rather than looking up tricky syntax and other tedious programming tasks, an AI "co-pilot" is billed as freeing up its human "pilot" to focus on the creative puzzle-solving that makes coding so satisfying.

But an hallucinating AI is a terrible co-pilot. It's just good enough to get the job done much of the time, but it also sneakily inserts booby-traps that are statistically guaranteed to look as plausible as the good code (that's what a next-word-guessing program does: guesses the statistically most likely word).

This turns AI-"assisted" coders into reverse centaurs. The AI can churn out code at superhuman speed, and you, the human in the loop, must maintain perfect vigilance and attention as you review that code, spotting the cleverly disguised hooks for malicious code that the AI can't be prevented from inserting into its code. As "Lena" writes, "code review [is] difficult relative to writing new code":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773779967521780169

Why is that? "Passively reading someone else's code just doesn't engage my brain in the same way. It's harder to do properly":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773780355708764665

There's a name for this phenomenon: "automation blindness." Humans are just not equipped for eternal vigilance. We get good at spotting patterns that occur frequently – so good that we miss the anomalies. That's why TSA agents are so good at spotting harmless shampoo bottles on X-rays, even as they miss nearly every gun and bomb that a red team smuggles through their checkpoints:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

"Lena"'s thread points out that this is as true for AI-assisted driving as it is for AI-assisted coding: "self-driving cars replace the experience of driving with the experience of being a driving instructor":

https://twitter.com/qntm/status/1773841546753831283

In other words, they turn you into a reverse-centaur. Whereas my blind-spot double-checking robot allows me to make maneuvers at human speed and points out the things I've missed, a "supervised" self-driving car makes maneuvers at a computer's frantic pace, and demands that its human supervisor tirelessly and perfectly assesses each of those maneuvers. No wonder Cruise's murderous "self-driving" taxis replaced each low-waged driver with 1.5 high-waged technical robot supervisors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI radiology programs are said to be able to spot cancerous masses that human radiologists miss. A centaur-based AI-assisted radiology program would keep the same number of radiologists in the field, but they would get less done: every time they assessed an X-ray, the AI would give them a second opinion. If the human and the AI disagreed, the human would go back and re-assess the X-ray. We'd get better radiology, at a higher price (the price of the AI software, plus the additional hours the radiologist would work).

But back to making the AI bubble pay off: for AI to pay off, the human in the loop has to reduce the costs of the business buying an AI. No one who invests in an AI company believes that their returns will come from business customers to agree to increase their costs. The AI can't do your job, but the AI salesman can convince your boss to fire you and replace you with an AI anyway – that pitch is the most successful form of AI disinformation in the world.

An AI that "hallucinates" bad advice to fliers can't replace human customer service reps, but airlines are firing reps and replacing them with chatbots:

https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20240222-air-canada-chatbot-misinformation-what-travellers-should-know

An AI that "hallucinates" bad legal advice to New Yorkers can't replace city services, but Mayor Adams still tells New Yorkers to get their legal advice from his chatbots:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/03/nycs-government-chatbot-is-lying-about-city-laws-and-regulations/

The only reason bosses want to buy robots is to fire humans and lower their costs. That's why "AI art" is such a pisser. There are plenty of harmless ways to automate art production with software – everything from a "healing brush" in Photoshop to deepfake tools that let a video-editor alter the eye-lines of all the extras in a scene to shift the focus. A graphic novelist who models a room in The Sims and then moves the camera around to get traceable geometry for different angles is a centaur – they are genuinely offloading some finicky drudgework onto a robot that is perfectly attentive and vigilant.

But the pitch from "AI art" companies is "fire your graphic artists and replace them with botshit." They're pitching a world where the robots get to do all the creative stuff (badly) and humans have to work at robotic pace, with robotic vigilance, in order to catch the mistakes that the robots make at superhuman speed.

Reverse centaurism is brutal. That's not news: Charlie Chaplin documented the problems of reverse centaurs nearly 100 years ago:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Modern_Times_(film)

As ever, the problem with a gadget isn't what it does: it's who it does it for and who it does it to. There are plenty of benefits from being a centaur – lots of ways that automation can help workers. But the only path to AI profitability lies in reverse centaurs, automation that turns the human in the loop into the crumple-zone for a robot:

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

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/2024/04/01/human-in-the-loop/#monkey-in-the-middle

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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Jorge Royan (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Munich_-_Two_boys_playing_in_a_park_-_7328.jpg

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

--

Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[fearfulfertility]

CONFIDENTIAL ETHICS REPORT

DRC, Internal Affairs Division, Ethics & Compliance Command

To: Operations Oversight Committee

From: Chief Operating Officer [REDACTED], Ethics Compliance Officer

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Comprehensive Review of the Ethics Training Program

Executive Summary

This report reviews the current Ethics Training Program (ETP) across all operational paternity compounds. The program, originally designed to instill a sense of moral discipline, professional integrity, and emotional detachment, has encountered significant challenges in achieving its objectives. 

Despite mandatory completion rates of [REDACTED]%, on-the-ground observations indicate that ethical lapses remain persistent. This review aims to identify existing weaknesses in the training framework and propose enhancements to ensure staff uphold DRC values of compliance, efficiency, and emotional neutrality.

Key Findings

I. Declining Ethical Compliance

Despite repeated training modules emphasizing professional distance, a recent audit found:

[REDACTED]% of staff exhibited unnecessary physical engagement with surrogates, ranging from [REDACTED] to unauthorized [REDACTED].

[REDACTED]% of handlers reported experiencing "existential guilt episodes" after prolonged surrogate interactions.

[REDACTED]% of new recruits required retraining after expressing---

[SYSTEM RESPONSE]

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[SECURITY LEVEL]: [HIGH]

[USER IDENTIFICATION]: [Executive Level-01A]

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[███████░░░░░░] 60%

[███████████░░] 90%

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[ACCESS GRANTED]: [HIGH CLEARANCE MODE ACTIVATED]

[SECURITY OVERRIDES]: [Enabled]

[REDACTED DATA]: [Unlocked]

II. Inappropriate Surrogate Relations

Despite the introduction of the Male Paternity Regulation and Evaluation Guide (MPREG), security audits and surveillance reviews have uncovered multiple incidents in which staff have failed to maintain appropriate boundaries with surrogates. These violations undermine the core principles of surrogate management and jeopardize operational efficiency by fostering unhealthy emotional dependencies and encouraging surrogate non-compliance.

Documented Breaches:

Unauthorized Physical Contact

Multiple reports indicate staff members engaging in “excessive belly-rubbing” under the guise of "medical check-ups," with some employees spending prolonged periods tracing stretch marks and remarking on the “impressive elasticity” of surrogate skin.

In one instance, an employee was observed resting his forehead against a surrogate's abdomen, citing an attempt to "listen for movement patterns."

Security footage captured a handler providing “unsanctioned belly massages” of seven late-term surrogates (immobile due to the size of pregnancies), commenting on the "firmness" and "size" even when surrogates protested the contact.

Surrogate Statement

"I kept telling him it wasn't necessary, but he just kept running his hands over my belly, saying he was 'checking for ripeness.' It felt weird—like he wasn’t even listening to me. I couldn’t move much, and he took advantage of that." — Surrogate S138-908-M, 30 days gestation with tridecuplets (13)

Employee Statement

"Listen, the bigger they get, the more we need to monitor things up close. You can’t just eyeball this stuff—you must feel it and assess how the skin’s stretching. If I rest my head on their stomach, it’s just to check fetal movement. Some of these guys have so many in there, it’s hard to tell what’s going on otherwise." — Handler, Employee ID# HS-138-033

Excessive Engagement During Lactation Sessions

Instances have been documented where staff members linger beyond their allotted monitoring times during surrogate lactation cycles, citing the need to "ensure maximum output."

Reports detail employees offering unsolicited physical contact during surrogate pectoral care, including lotion applications that fall outside their scope of responsibilities.

One employee was reprimanded after being discovered providing “oral collection,” allegedly to "maximize output," despite explicit prohibitions against direct interference.

Surrogate Statement

"He was supposed to check the pumps, but he just stood there watching… way too long. Then he started helping me put lotion on without asking. I told him I could do it myself, but he kept saying it was 'part of the procedure.' It made me really uncomfortable, but what am I supposed to do? I can’t exactly get up and leave." — Surrogate S111-334-L, 28 days gestation with dodecuplets (12)

Employee Statement

"I was just making sure he was comfortable! These guys leak all day; you wouldn’t believe the state of their skin. If I stay a little longer to make sure the lotion is applied evenly, it’s because I care about their well-being." — Lactation Technician, Employee ID# HS-111-115

Compromising Language 

Audio logs indicate staff addressing surrogates using inappropriate language, such as: 

Overripe

Milk Machines

Fetus Factories

Human Brooders

Staff have been overheard offering unnecessary commentary during routine examinations, with remarks such as” 

A gut full of government property…

All belly, no brains…

His womb is bigger than his future…

That belly’s in its own zip code…

Push or pop, your choice…

I’ve seen parade floats smaller than him…

Surrogate Statement

"They act like we’re not even people. One called me a ‘baby factory’ right to my face. They joke about us like we’re nothing but our wombs and pecs. It’s humiliating. I hear them laughing, saying stuff like, ‘Another day, another pop and drops.’" — Surrogate S119-501-R, 23 days gestation with Octodecuplets (18)

Employee Statement

"It’s just harmless fun. You see the same thing every day. You gotta lighten the mood. Yeah, we joke around a bit—what’s the harm? We don’t mean anything by it. If calling them ‘overripe’ gets us to relax, then what’s the problem?" — Compound Attendant, Employee ID# HS-119-187

Misuse of Medical Equipment:

Several staffers were found to be conducting authorized medical check-ups, recording or imaging surrogates, raising concerns that these materials are being used for personal gratification or unauthorized sale.

Surrogate Statement

"I noticed one of the nurses recording me... at first I thought it was a medical checkup but then he followed me into the showers. They’re not checking for my health—they’re keeping it for themselves. It’s disturbing. I don’t know who’s looking at me." — Surrogate S127-672-N, 25 days gestation with Quattuordecuplets (14)

Employee Statement

"Look, sometimes you see something interesting, and you want to study it later. These guys carry huge loads, and it’s fascinating from a medical perspective. I may have saved a few pictures, but it’s strictly professional… mostly. If some of the guys take a peek after hours, well, that’s their business." — Medical Technician, Employee ID# HS-127-087

III. Rising Moral Hesitations

Data collected from exit interviews indicate an alarming decline in ethical standards across multiple paternity compounds, with widespread reports of staff failing to uphold professional boundaries in their interactions with surrogates. 

Despite the implementation of the Male Paternity Regulation and Evaluation Guide (MPREG), surrogates have expressed discomfort and frustration with these breaches, noting that staff often dismiss or minimize their concerns. Meanwhile, employees continue to rationalize their actions, citing the unique challenges of surrogate management as justification for their behavior. The increasing frequency of these incidents signals a systemic failure to enforce ethical training and disciplinary measures, necessitating immediate corrective action to restore professional integrity and safeguard surrogate welfare.

IV. Proposed Ethics Training Enhancements

To mitigate these issues and strengthen staff resilience against ethical drift, the following measures are proposed:

Mandatory Hands-Off Policy Enforcement with Physical Barriers

A revised "Look, Don't Touch" policy will be implemented to combat the persistent issue of unauthorized physical contact. Staff will also undergo regular "hand discipline" exercises, reinforcing professional restraint techniques.

Behavioral Detachment Conditioning Program

Employees will participate in an intensive desensitization curriculum to mitigate emotional attachments and unhealthy fixations. Daily affirmations such as “Submission, Not Compassion” and “Productivity Over Personal” will be recited to reinforce emotional neutrality.

Milking Procedure Automation Initiative

In response to the growing concern of excessive lactation engagement, compounds will explore the use of fully automated milking stations, eliminating the need for staff to intervene manually. Advanced monitoring tools will ensure accurate data collection without physical oversight. Employees lingering in lactation zones will face immediate reassignment to less surrogate-focused duties.

Conclusion

The proposed enhancements to the ETP, including stricter enforcement measures, behavioral conditioning, and technological interventions, aim to address these concerns through deterrence, accountability, and operational improvements.

By implementing a robust hands-off policy, reinforcing professional detachment through targeted training, and introducing automation to reduce unnecessary interaction, the DRC can work towards restoring ethical discipline within the workforce. Ultimately, the success of these measures will depend on leadership commitment, ongoing surveillance, and a willingness to adapt training strategies to the evolving challenges of surrogate management.

[SYSTEM RESPONSE]

[AUTHENTICATION PROTOCOL ENGAGED]

[SECURITY OVERRIDES]: [Disabled]

[REDACTED DATA]: [Locked]

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To: Chief Operating Officer [REDACTED], Ethics & Compliance Command

From: Director [REDACTED]

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: RE: Comprehensive Review of the Ethics Training Program

While I acknowledge the concerns outlined in your report regarding ethical lapses, I must emphasize that operational productivity remains our primary focus. The reality is that our quotas are being met—exceeded, in fact—and that should be our key metric of success, not a handful of staff engaging in what I can only describe as “overenthusiastic” surrogate monitoring.

The bottom line is this: as long as the babies are born on schedule and our quotas are satisfied, I see no pressing need to disrupt compound operations with redundant policy enforcement and additional training.

Frankly, the incidents described—while colorful—reflect the unique demands of our workforce. Staff working closely with surrogates day in and day out are bound to find creative ways to “stay engaged,” and quite honestly, if a little belly rubbing keeps morale high and output consistent, I see no reason to intervene. After all, we're running a high-pressure operation, not a monastery.

I trust that my position on this matter is clear.

Continue monitoring for any gross misconduct that may threaten productivity, but let’s not get bogged down policing every lingering glance or overzealous stretch mark examination.

Director [REDACTED]

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