#intrusive software

[el-ffej]

FYI: Not anywhere near a complete solution: but I run an app called Little Snitch on my Mac that warns me when a program unexpectedly tries to use the internet. (I can set which apps have permission, with granularity down to specific tcp/ip port numbers).

It's a bit technical to use, and requires some setup; but it does catch (and prevent) situations when some app unexpectedly tries to pull something. (Believe it runs on Windows as well as the Mac.)

I believe everything should be offline, I believe that every time something that is not your internet browser (and I'm being generous here) should have a big red alert that says THIS PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM NEEDS TO CONNECT TO THE INTERNET AND REQUESTS YOUR CONSENT TO DO THIS SPECIFIC THING, and you had to touch a big red button and it would disconnect as soon as you close it.

[tech-sphere]

Carl E. Landwehr: Pioneer in Cybersecurity and Trustworthy Computing

Carl E. Landwehr is a distinguished American computer scientist specializing in cybersecurity and trustworthy computing. His extensive research has significantly advanced the identification of software vulnerabilities, the development of high-assurance software, and the creation of architectures for intrusion-tolerant and multilevel security systems.

Early Life and Education

Born in Evanston, Illinois, Landwehr pursued his undergraduate studies at Yale University, earning a Bachelor of Science degree. He furthered his education at the University of Michigan, obtaining both Master of Science and Ph.D. degrees in Computer Science. During his tenure at Michigan, he contributed to the Merit Network, the longest-running regional computer network in the United States.

Professional Career

Landwehr's career encompasses significant roles in government, academia, and research institutions:

Naval Research Laboratory (1982–1999): As a supervisory computer scientist, he conducted pioneering research in computer security, focusing on formal models for computer security and the development of secure systems.

Mitretek Systems (1999–2003): Serving as a Senior Fellow, he continued his work in cybersecurity, contributing to the advancement of secure computing practices.

National Science Foundation (2001–2004, 2009–2011): Landwehr developed and led cybersecurity research programs, shaping the direction of national research initiatives in the field.

Intelligence Advanced Research Projects Activity (2005–2009): As a Division Chief, he oversaw research programs aimed at enhancing national security through advanced computing technologies.

In academia, Landwehr has held teaching and research positions at institutions including Purdue University, Georgetown University, Virginia Tech, the University of Maryland, and George Washington University. Notably, he served as a lead research scientist at the Cyber Security Policy and Research Institute at George Washington University.

Contributions and Achievements

Landwehr's work has been instrumental in organizing and advancing the field of formal models for computer security. His influential taxonomy for security flaws has been widely recognized, and he has been a proponent of developing "building codes" for software used in critical infrastructures, particularly in the domains of medical devices and power systems.

His contributions have been acknowledged through numerous awards:

National Cyber Security Hall of Fame Inductee (2012): Recognized for his pioneering work in cybersecurity. Wikipedia

IEEE Fellow (2013): Honored for his contributions to the field of computer security.

ACM SIGSAC Outstanding Contribution Award (2013): Awarded for his significant impact on the field of computer and communications security.

NSF Director's Award for Meritorious Service (2012): In recognition of his exceptional service in advancing national research initiatives.

Editorial and Advisory Roles

Landwehr has served as editor-in-chief of IEEE Security & Privacy Magazine and as an associate editor for several IEEE journals. He has participated in studies for the National Academy of Sciences and was a member of DARPA's Information Science and Technology Study Group, contributing to the strategic direction of research in information security.

Recent Endeavors

In recent years, Landwehr has continued to influence the field through consulting and advisory roles, assisting in the development and management of research programs in the science of security. He has been an advocate for establishing industry standards, such as "building codes," for the construction of software with significant security requirements, organizing workshops and promoting best practices in software security.

Carl E. Landwehr's extensive body of work continues to shape the fields of cybersecurity and trustworthy computing, bridging the gap between academic research and practical applications in securing information systems.

[learning--tech]

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[nec-india]

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[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

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

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which was so unfair.

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

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

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

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

Which is how you ended up here.

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

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

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

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

... And now you were sweating.

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

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

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

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

This was going to be a disaster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

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

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

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

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

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

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

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

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

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

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

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

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

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

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

Solid. Real professional.

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

Nope. Not looking at him.

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

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

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

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

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

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

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

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

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

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

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

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

His stare didn’t waver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

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

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

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

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

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[thebibliosphere]

Thanks to intrusive AI implementations turning most grammar products into a festering bucket of inaccurate shit being used to steal our work and feed the yawning maw of technological enshitification under corporate greed, I've pretty much disabled all of my editing software and am just raw-dogging the writing experience like it's 2012.

But sometimes, even the native Word editor makes a suggestion that's so fucking dumb I have to pause and pinch my nose and ask, "Baby doll, are you fucking high?" as I mark the suggestion as wrong.

What I had written: He tipped his head back, baring his throat to those sharp, gleaming teeth.

Word's suggestion: He bore his throat.

That's it. That's the suggestion for "clarity and conciseness." Just remove three-quarters of the sentence and use the completely wrong word for the implied action.

I miss Clippy.

[shinelikethunder]

to all the weary Windows-using soldiers out there fighting a valiant rearguard action against our new Win11 overlords... i am taking you very gently by the hands. i am looking you deep in the eyes. and i am saying. with the utmost regret. that we may be at the point where following the instructions to turn a USB drive into a Linux Mint installer, booting up your afflicted device from the USB drive, and taking Mint's (very Windows-like) UI for a test drive... may be easier than figuring out how to weedwhack even a fraction of the intrusive crap Microsoft is pushing on you. at minimum, it'll give you a striking moment of peace and relief to boot into an environment that isn't actively harassing you.

i hate that this is how bad it is, and i fucking hate sounding like a smug Linux evangelist. there is no told-ya-so coming from this ex-Windows girlie; i'm just seeing a bunch of people eyeing the exit door, and want to hold it open and be an enabler and pinky-promise that the Mint flavor of Linux is, like, super fucking easy for normal-ass people to use, and probably way easier to install than it'd be to unfuck Win11.

-

once you're in the installer, it'll give you three options: 1. run a live, temporary version of Linux Mint right off the USB stick for you to fool around in; 2. nuke Windows from orbit and install Linux as the only operating system; or 3. banish Windows to the shadow realm (an isolated corner of your hard drive) so the two operating systems won't mess with each other, install Linux alongside it, and let you pick which one to use every time you boot up the computer.

so... try it out if you want. use the live demo to check out the software-installation ecosystem, which is probably the most unfamiliar part. consider what fits your situation. if you have non-negotiable Windows-only software chaining you to the beast, or you don't want to totally abandon having Win11 available as a fallback, the installer can walk you through option (3) with a minimum of fuss. (just be careful about how much disk space to assign to each "side," because altering it after the fact is trickier.) if it doesn't suit you, oh well - lend the USB drive to a friend, or keep it to noodle around with later when Microsoft's driving you up the wall. or wipe it, whichever.

[winterarmyy]

Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!

[snapscube]

what's up with GShade what kind of drama could a Shader have

to the best of my memory: the lead developer of gshade started to get very controlling and arrogant about their software and how people used it. one common annoyance was that when there was an update released, the software would very intrusively bug you about updating right then and there and it was a headache to have to constantly manually remove the notice from your screen. i believe the crux of the drama was that a young modder took it upon themselves to mod and release a version of Gshade, or just some kind of additional software, that bypassed the annoying update notifications. and when the lead gshade dev found this out they sneakily implemented new code into gshade that would force shutdown someone’s computer if gshade detected that they were using this mod.

after the initial wave of controversy their reputation basically tanked overnight once people found this out. understandably so, as this was in very literal terms implementing hidden malware into the software. a bunch of shader preset creators started working on adapting their presets for reshade immediately after. i know i personally switched over to reshade immediately myself. it was such an easily avoidable mess haha.

also if i’ve gotten any of these details incorrect please feel free to correct me or elaborate in the replies, it’s been a while since i’ve looked into this drama and i’m literally just recounting it off the dome :)

[amalgamasreal]

On Personal InfoSec

Been awhile since I've had one of these posts but I figure with all that's going on in the world it's time to make another one of these posts and get some stuff out there for people. A lot of the information I'm going to go over you can find here:

So if you'd like to just click the link and ignore the rest of the post that's fine, I strongly recommend checking out the Privacy Guides.

Browsers:

There's a number to go with but for this post going forward I'm going to recommend Firefox. I know that the Privacy Guides lists Brave and Safari as possible options but Brave is Chrome based now and Safari has ties to Apple. Mullvad is also an option but that's for your more experienced users so I'll leave that up to them to work out.

Browser Extensions:

uBlock Origin: content blocker that blocks ads, trackers, and fingerprinting scripts. Notable for being the only ad blocker that still works on Youtube.

Privacy Badger: Content blocker that specifically blocks trackers and fingerprinting scripts. This one will catch things that uBlock doesn't catch but does not work for ads.

Facebook Container: "but I don't have facebook" you might say. Doesn't matter, Meta/Facebook still has trackers out there in EVERYTHING and this containerizes them off away from everything else.

Bitwarden: Password vaulting software, don't trust the password saving features of your browsers, this has multiple layers of security to prevent your passwords from being stolen.

ClearURLs: Allows you to copy and paste URL's without any trackers attached to them.

VPN:

Note: VPN software doesn't make you anonymous, no matter what your favorite youtuber tells you, but it does make it harder for your data to be tracked and it makes it less open for whatever network you're presently connected to.

Mozilla VPN: If you get the annual subscription it's ~$60/year and it comes with an extension that you can install into Firefox.

Proton VPN: Has easily the most amount of countries serviced, can take cash payments, and does offer port forwarding.

Email Provider:

Note: By now you've probably realized that Gmail, Outlook, and basically all of the major "free" e-mail service providers are scraping your e-mail data to use for ad data. There are more secure services that can get you away from that but if you'd like the same storage levels you have on Gmail/Outlook.com you'll need to pay.

Proton Mail: Secure, end-to-end encrypted, and fairly easy to setup and use. Offers a free option up to 1gb

Tuta: Secure, end-to-end encrypted, been around a very long time, and offers a free option up to 1gb.

Email Client:

Thunderbird if you're on Windows or Linux

Apple Mail if you're on macOS

Cloud Storage:

Proton Drive: Encrypted cloud storage from the same people as Proton Mail.

Tresorit: Encrypted cloud storage owned by the national postal service of Switzerland. Received MULTIPLE awards for their security stats.

Peergos: decentralized and open-source, allows for you to set up your own cloud storage, but will require a certain level of expertise.

Microsoft Office Replacements:

LibreOffice: free and open-source, updates regularly, and has the majority of the same functions as base level Microsoft Office.

OnlyOffice: cloud-based, free, and open source.

Chat Clients:

Note: As you've heard SMS and even WhatsApp and some other popular chat clients are basically open season right now. These are a couple of options to replace those.

Signal: Provides IM and calling securely and encrypted, has multiple layers of data hardening to prevent intrusion and exfil of data.

Molly (Android OS only): Alternative client to Signal. Routes communications through the TOR Network.

Briar: Encrypted IM client that connects to other clients through the TOR Network, can also chat via wifi or bluetooth.

Now for the last bit, I know that the majority of people are on Windows or macOS, but if you can get on Linux I would strongly recommend it. pop_OS, Ubuntu, and Mint are super easy distros to use and install. They all have very easy to follow instructions on how to install them on your PC and if you'd like to just test them out all you need is a thumb drive to boot off of to run in demo mode.

If you game through Steam their Proton emulator in compatibility mode works wonders, I'm presently playing a major studio game that released in 2024 with no Linux support on it and once I got my drivers installed it's looked great. There are some learning curves to get around, but the benefit of the Linux community is that there's always people out there willing to help.

I hope some of this information helps you and look out for yourself, it's starting to look scarier than normal out there.

[1-up-chump]

Thoughts on nick valentine being "upgraded" into a gen-3

There is no way in hell he's gonna be willing, he already had a hard time adjusting to his metallic body and he knows its gonna take forever to get half as used to a new one made of flesh. So it's either him literally dying and his body is broken beyond repair but his mind could be transferred to a gen-3, or he got kidnapped and forcibly slapped into one. Neither outcome nick would be too happy about.

But the absolute angst potential of the "your metallic body finally had its run" tho... a sole survivor hell bent on making sure nick will stay alive, even if it means fumbling around with the institute, doing dirty things and even dirtier just to arrange it. Even if its such a low chance that even if they did find someone willing to put nick in a synth body, if it would even work. Its not like curie who had a simpler software being worked into a complex hardware. Nick is literally experimental of a synth, there even was a risk with a simple viewing of Kellogg's memories.

When nick wakes up he can feel the difference, and he wonders if its a dream, or nightmare, or he's dead. But no, he's in a new body. A fleshy, unfamiliar prison of flesh, intrusive to his familiarity with the wires and circuits and metal frame.

And as he's having his second or third identity crisis (god knows if he's even keeping a count on that sorta thing) he demands answers. It's in his very nature, his programming to snoop out the truth in these tense mysteries. And the first one nick goes to question is sole survivor, his partner, the one person in this whole apocalyptic world he thought he could count on.

Needless to say he has more than a few choice words for them....

[dr-spectre]

PHOTO MODE SHOWCASE ANNOUCEMENT!!!

Hello everyone!!! So after the Grand Fest and seeing all the people send me incredible photos of the Idols during that time, i have came up with the idea of doing a photo mode showcase!! Where you guys will send me photos from Splatoon 3 between a certain time frame and i will showcase them and critique them! I thought it would be something fun to try and see if it's an event i wanna continue or not.

THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION!!!! THERE ARE NO PRIZES TO BE WON!!! THIS IS JUST SOMETHING FOR FUN!!!!

In the following post i will provide rules, the theme AND the time frame. (Keep in mind that the following times will be in AEST so do your own conversion.)

Now let's go over the rules so that everyone is clear on this.

RULES!

Max of three photos per user. Any higher and I'll just randomly choose from your selection or just delete your inbox message if you spam me.

When submitting your photo(s) to me via my inbox, you have agreed to me providing feedback and my honest thoughts on them. Do not get mad or upset at me for criticising your work.

Photos must be original works made by you and not stolen from anyone else. If i find out that you have stolen a photo from someone i will block you and publicly shame you for being a thief.

Photos must be taken in PHOTO MODE!! DO NOT USE THE ZR BUTTON AND HIDE THE CURSOR!!! IT MUST BE TAKEN BY OPENING THE PHOTO MODE VIA THE MINUS BUTTON!! If you use the ZR button to take a photo you will not be included in the showcase and your inbox message will be deleted.

Do NOT take a picture of your switch or your tv screen to show me your photo, send me the actual image. You can send photos captured from your switch to your phone or pc device via USB-C cable or QR code. If you take a picture of your switch or tv screen you WILL be out of the showcase.

Giving a title and description to your work is optional but highly encouraged. However if you feel like you need to explain the image then go right ahead and do so!

You MUST follow the theme given by me in some way shape or form, if i say that the theme is Wahoo World and you show me a photo of Hammerhead Bridge, you'll be out.

Photos sent to me via DM will NOT count, all photos must be sent in the inbox within the given time frame.

Do not grab an old photo you've taken a while back that so happens to match up with the theme. That is really lame dude, just don't. I wanna see your current skills. Take a photo between the given time frame.

THE THEME!

Alright, the theme of this photo mode showcase... is....

Splatsville.

You must take a photo(s) relating to Splatsville in some way, shape, or form. You can include idols and the amiibo too in your photo(s) if you so please. Inklings and Octolings from the hub can be included of course but they cannot be too intrusive. (Dont shove the camera in their faces.) Basically, capture Splatsville in your own way. You can use software to edit photos if you wish but you MUST state that you have used software to alter them.

EXAMPLES:

TIME FRAME!

Saturday, 28th of September 12AM AEST - Monday, 30th of September 12AM AEST.

Photos sent before and after this time frame will NOT count!

DO NOT SEND ME PHOTOS RIGHT AWAY!!!!!! I WON'T INCLUDE THEM!!! SEND THE PHOTOS WITHIN THE TIME FRAME!!!!

However, if you send me a photo a minute or two after then, i MAY allow it if it's good. I won't be super ultra strict.

ANYWAYS! Good luck and i can't wait to see what you guys will cook up over the weekend!!!

[meret118]

The cogent documentary, “Surveilled,” now available on HBO, tracks journalist Ronan Farrow as he investigates the proliferation and implementation of spyware, specifically, Pegasus, which was created by the Israeli company NSO Group. The company sells its product to clients who use it to fight crime and terrorism. It is claimed that Pegasus was instrumental in helping capture Mexican drug lord, Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzman. However, there are also reports that NSO’s products are being used to target journalists, human rights activists and political dissidents.

. . .

Farrow: I put up a piece in The New Yorker this week. It was fascinating to talk to experts in the privacy law space who are really in a high state of alarm right now. The United States, under administrations from both parties, has flirted with this technology in ways that is alarming. Under the first Trump administration, they bought Pegasus. They claimed they were buying it to test it and see what our enemies were doing, and The New York Times later sued them for more information and found really persuasive evidence that the FBI wanted to operationalize that in American law enforcement investigations.

In September, the Department of Homeland Security (D.H.S.) signed a two-million-dollar contract with Paragon, an Israeli firm whose spyware product Graphite focusses on breaching encrypted-messaging applications such as Telegram and Signal. Wired first reported that the technology was acquired by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE)—an agency within D.H.S. that will soon be involved in executing the Trump Administration’s promises of mass deportations and crackdowns on border crossings. A source at Paragon told me that the deal followed a vetting process, during which the company was able to demonstrate that it had robust tools to prevent other countries that purchase its spyware from hacking Americans—but that wouldn’t limit the U.S. government’s ability to target its own citizens. The technology is part of a booming multibillion-dollar market for intrusive phone-hacking software that is making government surveillance increasingly cheap and accessible. In recent years, a number of Western democracies have been roiled by controversies in which spyware has been used, apparently by defense and intelligence agencies, to target opposition politicians, journalists, and apolitical civilians caught up in Orwellian surveillance dragnets.

Now Donald Trump and incoming members of his Administration will decide whether to curtail or expand the U.S. government’s use of this kind of technology. Privacy advocates have been in a state of high alarm about the colliding political and technological trend lines.

“It’s just so evident—the impending disaster,” Emily Tucker, the executive director at the Center on Privacy and Technology at Georgetown Law, told me. “You may believe yourself not to be in one of the vulnerable categories, but you won’t know if you’ve ended up on a list for some reason or your loved ones have. Every single person should be worried.”

[anheliotrope]

It's always "funny" to remember that software development as field often operates on the implicit and completely unsupported assumption that security bugs are fixed faster than they are introduced, adjusting for security bug severity.

This assumption is baked into security policies that are enforced at the organizational level regardless of whether they are locally good ideas or not. So you have all sorts of software updating basically automatically and this is supposedly proof that you deserve that SOC2 certification.

Different companies have different incentives. There are two main incentives:

Limiting legal liability

Improving security outcomes for users

Most companies have an overwhelming proportion of the first incentive.

This would be closer to OK if people were more honest about it, but even within a company they often start developing The Emperor's New Clothes types of behaviour.

---

I also suspect that security has generally been a convenient scapegoat to justify annoying, intrusive and outright abusive auto-updating practices in consumer software. "Nevermind when we introduced that critical security bug and just update every day for us, alright??"

Product managers almost always want every user to be on the latest version, for many reasons of varying coherence. For example, it enables A/B testing (provided your software doesn't just silently hotpatch it without your consent anyway).

---

I bring this up because (1) I felt like it, (2) there are a lot of not-so-well-supported assumptions in this field, which are mainly propagated for unrelated reasons. Companies will try to select assumptions that suit them.

Yes, if someone does software development right, the software should converge towards being more secure as it gets more updates. But the reality is that libraries and applications are heavily heterogenous -- they have different risk profiles, different development practices, different development velocities, and different tooling. The correct policy is more complicated and contextual.

Corporate incentives taint the field epistemologically. There's a general desire to confuse what is good for the corporation with what is good for users with what is good for the field.

The way this happens isn't by proposing obviously insane practices, but by taking things that sound maybe-reasonable and artificially amplifying confidence levels. There are aspects of the distortion that are obvious and aspects of the distortion that are most subtle. If you're on the inside and never talked to weird FOSS people, it's easy to find it normal.

One of the eternal joys and frustrations of being a software developer is trying to have effective knowledge about software development. And generally a pre-requisite to that is not believing false things.

For all the bullshit that goes on in the field, I feel _good_ about being able to form my own opinions. The situation, roughly speaking, is not rosy, but learning to derive some enjoyment from countering harmful and incorrect beliefs is a good adaptation. If everyone with a clue becomes miserable and frustrated then computing is doomed. So my first duty is to myself -- to talk about such things without being miserable. I tend to do a pretty okay job at that.

[bee-rosmyth-art]

Wheatley was finding it hard to concentrate. He didn't feel all that relaxed any more, and he flinched as her free hand darted up under his right arm and adjusted the stock, which kept slipping from the angle of his neck. He wished that this body came with some sort of complicated, attention-requiring trajectory-calculating software, something intrusive that would have kept his mind on the job in hand, instead of what it did have, sight, touch, etcetera, lots of high-quality sensory input which didn't do anything to distract him from how bloody close she was.

- Blue Sky, Chapter 7: The Monster

Written by Wafflestories

[mariacallous]

The anonymous image board 4chan has survived years of controversy. It weathered user and advertiser boycotts as well as damning accusations that it incubated hate speech that may have fueled mass shootings. Users have convened on 4chan to plan hacks like DDoS attacks, and conspiracy theories that festered on 4chan even reportedly inspired the January 6 insurrection at the United States Capitol. On Monday night and Tuesday, though, the platform faced its latest test after a series of outages led to speculation that the site had been hacked.

The core feature 4chan provides is public anonymity to post text and images, but the platform itself does collect information about users, such as their IP addresses. As a result, a breach of the website could represent a significant exposure of data that was intended to be private.

“4chan is an anonymous message board that enables often offensive and hateful content. The content leaked, if genuine, would remove some of the anonymity from 4chan administrators, moderators, and janitors,” says Ian Gray, director of analysis and research at the security firm Flashpoint. The image board’s billing as an “anonymous” platform may have given users a “false sense of security,” Gray says. “Some users may have registered their email addresses years ago when they were less aware or concerned about their operational security.”

Reports about the apparent hack began circulating after a previously banned board on 4chan briefly appeared online and the site was defaced with a message saying, “U GOT HACKED XD.” Subsequently, an online account on a rival forum known as Soyjak.party posted screenshots allegedly showing 4chan’s backend systems, plus a list of alleged 4chan administrator and moderator usernames, with associated email addresses. Following this post of 4chan administrator email addresses, Soyjak.party users started posting alleged doxes, including photos and personal information, of the accounts included in the leak.

WIRED has not been able to confirm whether the data is legitimate. A press email address associated with 4chan as well as two alleged administrator emails from the leaked data did not immediately respond to WIRED’s requests for comment on the hack and its validity. One of the site’s moderators said they believed the hack and leaks were real, according to a report by TechCrunch.

Rumors also started circulating on Tuesday that the breach is the result of 4chan running legacy, unpatched software that exposed the platform to attack. After a breach a decade ago, 4chan founder Christopher Poole, known online as “moot,” wrote in a blog post, “[We] have spent—and will continue to spend—dozens of hours poring over our software and systems to help mitigate and prevent future intrusions. We’re sorry it happened, and will do our best to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

Emiliano De Cristofaro, a computer science and engineering professor at UC Riverside, who has researched the impact of 4chan on the web, says the ramifications could be large if the hack is confirmed.

“It seems true that 4chan hasn't been properly maintained and patched for years, which might indicate that a hack would have definitely been a possibility,” De Cristofaro says. “There might be some ‘high profile’ users exposed as moderators—traditionally, 4chan users hate them, so they might be targeted. It might be hard or at least painfully slow and costly for 4chan to recover from this, so we might really see the end of 4chan as we know it.”

Initial reports posted on Soyjak.party referencing a 4chan hack appeared to say that Soyjak.party members may have been involved in the attack. One post claimed that a hacker had been in 4chan’s systems “for over a year” and exposed personal information allegedly linked to 4chan users and administrators. And multiple screenshots posted on Soyjak.party appear to show someone accessing 4chan’s internal systems. These include images of someone with administrator access to a 4chan backend database, stats about users on various sections of 4chan, a page showing deleted posts and the IP addresses they were made from, as well as other internal documentation. Some reports also claim that hackers stole 4chan’s source code.

In recent years, 4chan has increasingly been on the radar of US government officials. The website has reportedly been kept online due in part to investment by a Japanese company. In June 2023, WIRED reported on internal 4chan documents that showed how the site’s policies shaped the highly toxic nature of the platform—including how moderators explicitly allow racism. In most cases, the documents showed, calls for violence on 4chan are not met with user bans.

“If the data is legitimate, information on members and posting could be useful for law enforcement investigations,” Flashpoint’s Gray says. “4chan has been around since at least 2003, which is extremely notable for any online service. Aside from the offensive and often extremist content, a lot of internet culture has originated from 4chan. If this is a death knell for 4chan, other services will likely fill its place. However, the effect of 4chan on the internet cannot be overstated.”