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merryfortune · 2 years ago

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Companionable Compacts

Written for the 100ships Challenge on Dreamwidth

Prompt #18 Blush

Title: Companionable Compacts

Ship: Amane | Gentlu/Kokone

Fandom: Delicious Party Pretty Cure

Word Count: 3,140

Rating: G

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Date, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers

The gift had come from all of them and it was meant as a token of friendship from all of them but selfishly, Amane considered it as coming from Kokone the most. She said this with all the adoration unto Yui and Ran but she simply couldn’t imagine them picking out such a refined and elegant gift, not without Kokone’s kindness, at the very least.

The gift being that gorgeously bejewelled compact which enshrined dusty rose-coloured blush.

At first, Amane used it sparingly. She wanted to cherish it, after all. Use it with only the wisest of consideration in mind. Special occasions, dates of unique or out of the ordinary quality, fancy parties. That was the calibre of the affairs that Amane thought wearing the blush was most suited for.

But when she thought more of how Kokone, and the other girls, could take the smallest things, the most mundane of moments and turn them into grand gestures of platonic love and affection, Amane reconsidered again.

She truly appreciated Kokone’s tranquil outer self. She was a breath of cool air amid the chaos of their more extraverted friends. But even she had her own quirks. Amane had observed Kokone from afar, once upon a time, detached from one another’s classes, even duties as a student council president or as part of her escapades as Gentlu.

She had always seen - assumed - that Kokone’s tranquillity made her impervious to loneliness, or getting to know her at all. That she wanted to be alone. But no, it was nervousness, awkwardness, her own gap between her inner and outer self and Amane wanted to get to know her more. She wanted to see more of what made Kokone smile for her elegance and maturity, it masked a quiet childishness like her interest in all things cute despite her cool and spicy outer facade.

Amane wanted to become closer with Kokone. Closer and closer, if possible and holding onto that gift from her and the other girls, that was one way to do it. Same with holding onto their words and their kindness for they never mistreated her despite her being a former enemy of theirs.

She wanted to treat them well and to hold their first gift to her in such high esteem, that seemed like the best way to do it. At first at least. But if it was just collecting dust on her shelf, looking pretty, an object for her to gaze up and sigh at as she pined and pined away for Kokone, it was… kind of a waste, wasn’t it?

So, boldly, Amane began to wear it not quite so sparingly. Once a fortnight. Then twice a week. Not every day. She was the student council president, after all. Just because she could did not mean she should flaunt the powers that be and get away with wearing more makeup than the average female student was permitted per the rules of the student handbook.

The accent to her natural face did not go unnoticed, by the way. Thankfully not by the teachers but by someone else more pertinent to her. Someone who she loved to look at and be looked at by.

A notion which had once been unfathomable to her. She had once been a gentlewoman thief, after all. Invisible to most as she robbed them blind of the taste of their favourite foods. A simple cruelty but a cruelty nonetheless and now she was one of the very emissaries crusading to protect their food and memories that they had made around their food.

Amane wanted to be seen and she wanted to be seen by none other and Kokone, with her sweet, gentle eyes of blues. Amane wanted to be the reason her eyes turned soft when she smiled. She wanted to see Kokone as much as she wanted to be seen by her. Kokone was so quietly strong in her own way, reserved, not wanting to be indisposed or selfish, but she deserved to be.

Amane wanted to assure Kokone it was alright to ask for things, especially of her friends and loved ones. Amane, herself, wanted to say similar things in turn, tell her that she was cherished and beloved but for some reason, even though she was an excellent speech giver, she was unable to muster the right words - or any words at all.

The thought of it made her heart skip a beat, the thought of it made her heart find its way to her throat and choke her with all these unsaid words. Sentences that got smaller and smaller the bigger her heart got with this yearning.

So many unsaid words of three letter sentences.

Amane was many things but she doubted that she would be able to say just that little sentence. I like you. For now, the best she could muster was, “I would like to go to Pretty Holic with you, if you don’t mind.”

Amane thought she sounded flustered when she spoke. But then again, around her crush, she always thought she lost her personhood as some calm and collected. She was assured of her own control in voice and mannerism when Kokone replied with a smile.

“I would love to.” she said, a glitter to her eyes as she felt flattered that a dear friend was interested in one of her favourite places, most likely, Amane assumed. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear as she then asked, “Does Saturday afternoon suit you?”

“It would.” Amane replied.

“Then it's a date.” Kokone said. “That’s what the other girls would say, wouldn’t they?”

It was not a date, Amane internally assured herself as she felt her blood pressure spike at the mention. Her hair stood at end as she had to stop herself from going onto an imaginary sequence of what a shopping date with Kokone would be like. She cleared her throat but her heart was still plenty stuck in it.

“Oh, by the way, have you invited Yui and Ran?” Kokone asked innocently.

“I have no. I was hoping to have some one-on-one time with you. We’re always hanging out as a group and sometimes, it gets too rowdy for me.” Amane replied.

“I know what you mean, I understand.” Kokone replied. “But then it really is like a date, isn’t it?”

“If you say so.” Amane cooly shrugged.

It still was not a date, she chided herself. Many friends went on platonic dates or otherwise used it colloquially but still. When Amane got home that night, she went to her room and sat on her bed, hugging her pillow, burying her face into the soft and closed her eyes. She let those wild imaginations set free whilst the Parfait Recipipi circled around her, chirping, as though reading her mind and just as fired up about her crush as she was.

Amane could hardly sleep, in between her own thoughts and the Parfait Recipipi’s chirping. Her face felt too warm the more she hid in the plush depth of her pillow or even under her covers. She was far too excited about tomorrow afternoon and what adventures it could bring.

And by the time that Amane did manage to get some sleep, it was patchy, dreamless, and practically morning already. But at least she got a little bit of sleep, as meagre as it was, and being a lady, Amane covered up the blemish of a lack of beauty sleep quite elegantly. At breakfast, neither of her twin brothers would have guessed that their baby sister had gotten anything less than eight hours.

Although, speaking of Yuan and Mitsuki, they were hideously embarrassing at breakfast. She never should have let slip that she was excited to meet Kokone later that day because that gave them all too much material to pamper and tease her with. She very much needed neither but again, she took all their good natured, older brother jeering on the chin and made the best of things.

Even if she was very fidgety, constantly glancing towards the clock on the wall. Was it time yet? Was this a good and appropriate time to leave and meet Kokone yet?

Amane was overly antsy as she kept tabs on the clock and fussing with her purse, bringing what she needed, cutting out what she didn’t, changing her mind either way. But it kept her occupied. That was probably the main - and best - thing because when two o’clock or so rolled around, she was more than prepared as she bolted out the door. Her hands stamped over her ears so her older brothers couldn’t get any satisfaction in their nannying as they farewelled her on her way to the mall.

She and Kokone had agreed to meet by the planter box seating outside the entrance of the mall, in its main courtyard. Amane was not only on time to greet Kokone, she was there first and for a good five minutes or so.

“I apologise if I kept you waiting.” Kokone said, sounding breathless but not looking like it, as she got near to Amane.

“I only just arrived, I promise.” Amane assured her.

“That’s good, but thank you for waiting for me.” Kokone replied.

“My pleasure.” Amane smiled and her heart skipped a beat. Kokone’s sincerity intertwined with her dislike of ever being an imposition on someone, it was a most intoxicating, if secret, delight for her.

“Well, if you are ready, shall we go inside?” asked Kokone and she held her purse a little tighter in her excitement.

“I would love to.” Amane said.

They went inside together. Not hand in hand, obviously, but certainly shoulder to shoulder. They kept close and entered the cool, street level storefront of Pretty Holic. It was interconnected with other outlets as part of the mall but its vague detachment made it seem more special, somehow. More luxurious or opulent.

Its contents certainly were. The pink walls, the columns and signage, it was all very froufrou in a most elegant and charming way. Kokone was most certainly at home amongst its fragrances and sparkling displays of charms and jewellery. They wandered along aisles of glass cases with the most intriguing items under the cover and investigated these floral-like bowls which had last season’s products wantonly placed inside and mixed.

But there was one thing they both wanted above all.

“It was right here where I found your gift, Amane, with Yui and Ran.” Kokone explained as they finally drifted to the furthest wall of the shop.

She pointed out to a shelf above eye-level. The shelf had ornate detailing which reminded Amane of a coral reef. It was lined with compacts, all of which looked similar but not exact to the type of compact that was now empty on her own shelf at home.

“I don’t need an exact replacement.” Amane said. “But thank you for showing me.”

“I could’ve sworn it wasn’t a limited run, however.” Kokone worried.

“What would you recommend in its stead?” Amane asked. “I trust your opinion, I’m sure you would pick something equally as well for me, if not better.”

Kokone stiffened, her cheeks turning a rose pink in her face as she stammered, “Y-You flatter me.”

“I speak the truth.” Amane said.

“Well, if you say so…” Kokone said and she had to look away from Amane, flustered, like she was looking away from the sun but she got onto her tiptoes. She reached even higher than this second from the middle shelf.

“Careful.” Amane warned her and instinctively held her steady.

Kokone squeaked as Amane held her hand. Her fingers ghosted the plastic shell of the compact that she was trying to get down and with a couple more attempts, she did manage to get it down without issue. Though, not without a relieved smile. One that transformed into a lovely smile now that she had it.

“This is from the new season and I think its mature elegance would suit you.” Kokone said.

“Thank you, let’s purchase it then.” Amane said.

“You don’t want to test it first?” Kokone asked, blinking owlishly.

“Oh, um, if it's not a bother.” Amane replied, somewhat taken aback but supposed made sense.

Kokone led her to another section of the store, where there were bays for her to sit, in front of a mirror lined with yellow light bulbs and a white desk with no clutter. Like a celebrity’s mirror from a show backstage. Kokone left Amane there for a moment and spoke to a storeperson who helpfully provided her with a testing blush in the same line as the one that she had picked out for Amane.

A few minutes later, after Amane primly waited, Kokone returned. She had Kokone turn around on the bay’s spinning, pleather stool to face her. Amane swallowed. Suddenly, she became very aware of all the pores in her skin and where her hands should be and just how close she was to Kokone, for it was very close.

“I promise to be gentle.” Kokone said.

“I had no worries otherwise.” Amane replied.

Her back was straight as a rod and her nervous energy calcified. Making her very difficult to work with, even embarrassing Kokone as she looked up at her with huge, expectful eyes. Even so, Kokone worked as gently as she promised.

Kokone delicately, with a flick of her wrist, dabbed the blush brush into the contents of the compact. She gave it a swirl or two and then tapped it on the side of the rudimentary test compact’s rim. She drew up to Amane’s face and Amane could feel her own cheeks redden, and not because of the makeup.

“You are unexpectedly cute, Amane.” Kokone complimented her in a soft, quiet voice.

“Thank you. I think.” Amane stiltedly managed out in reply.

Kokone giggled. It really was a compliment but it didn’t matter. She would fix Amane’s blush, both natural and unnatural. Her strokes were masterful, painterly, almost, and how she blended with the complementary sponge was contrastingly tiny to her previously long strokes. She dotted tiny circles on Amane’s face to colour it in and highlight her cheekbones.

“Amane, you have a really beautiful jawline.” Kokone sounded dreamy as she finished up. “I hope I have done justice.”

“I have no doubt that you have.” Amane replied.

She turned herself around on the turning stool. Its swivel motion was very awkward and gangly, in a way, but she made it to the front of the mirror again and gasped. It was just a small detail but Amane could hardly recognise herself as the Amane from this morning, tired and brushing knots out of her hair after a terrible night’s sleep. Nor was she the day to day Amane, attending council meetings. She especially was not Gentlu nor Cure Finale in this mirror. Instead, she felt as though she had had a vision of being a princess, or a few years older. Kokone was nothing less than a magician with how she had so deftly done her makeup.

“Do you like it?” Kokone asked.

“I love it.” Amane said, breathless, eyes still wide.

She turned around again, legs flailing slightly so she could hurry. There were still stars in her eyes of being impressed when she faced Kokone again and Kokone looked giddy. She had her hand in front of her mouth and her other across her stomach, her smile ear to ear despite the blockage.

“You are too kind to me, Amane.” Kokone murmured.

“I am not being kind enough,” Amane retorted, she got up, she found courage she did not realise was there, “because I have more to say. I think you are brilliant in everything that you do, Kokone. I like you.”

Kokone gasped and even Amane did not fully realise what she had said until the surprised silence had blossomed between them. Yet Amane stood by her word. Even though her hands by her side, they trembled in defence of what she thought would be certain rejection but instead, Kokone softened.

She took her hand off her face, and off her stomach, then spoke, shaky, “I… I like you, too, Amane.”

Amane blinked. She could not believe her ears and yet the sight in front of her was very much real. Her and Kokone, one on one, feelings requited. Amane licked her lips.

“Then it would be my honour to ask you out.” Amane said. “If you would have me.”

Kokone giggled, “You speak even more formally than I do,” she said, teasing but playful as she stepped a little closer, “it would be my pleasure, Amane.”

Boldly, bolder than either of them could have ever expected, Kokone kissed Amane. Her kiss was delicate, uncertain of herself and yet so, so sweet with the chocolate-peppermint lip balm that she used and with her maidenly intentions: wanting nothing less than a cute first kiss, Amane was sure.

She kissed back softly, not wanting to be too forward but it truly did feel as though the world had just melted away. That it was just them, on the inside of a compact, like a ballerina in a music box.

When they mutually pulled back, the kiss ending slower than it started, Amane smiled. “Thank you for doing my makeup, Kokone.” she said.

“Thank you for being my first kiss.” Kokone blushed, looking a little frazzled.

Maybe too frazzled to suggest it but even so, Amane did, “Shall we go to the checkout?”

“If you are ready.” Kokone replied.

“I am. Because I would like to visit more places with my girlfriend, if you are up to it.” Amane said.

“I would love to. A date-date. A proper date.” Kokone rambled.

“Yes, a proper date.” Amane agreed. “Our first one.”

Kokone smiled this most wonky but genuinely smile. It was unguarded and vulnerable and Amane was thrilled to see it. She offered her hand to Kokone who demurely accepted it. Their fingers threaded around each other and their palms connected to be held.

Together, they walked over to the counter to pay for Amane’s new compact. They split its cost between them both but now, Amane finally had a gift she could call as coming from Kokone all alone, exclusively. The compact in question, set aside by the storeperson, sparkled under the lights of Pretty Holic.

It looked different to the previous compact that Amane had been gifted. This one was white with a golden-brown hinge and was decorated with light blue lace painted on over a coiffed lid like a seashell. It would, no doubt, look beautiful on Amane’s shelf, a fateful and forever companion to her previous compact, no doubt either.

Once it was emptied of its contents as Amane would not want this gift to be improperly cherished.

#femslash #100ships challenge #delicious party pretty cure #delicious party precure #delicious party #precure #kasai amane #fuwa kokone #cure finale #cure spicy #gentlu (precure)#amakoko #amane x kokone #kokone x amane #writing tag #companionable compacts #i told you guys.... episode 20..... has a chokehold on me #i'll post this to ao3 later #i'm just bored rn before work

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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months ago

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How I got scammed

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/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I wuz robbed.

More specifically, I was tricked by a phone-phisher pretending to be from my bank, and he convinced me to hand over my credit-card number, then did $8,000+ worth of fraud with it before I figured out what happened. And then he tried to do it again, a week later!

Here's what happened. Over the Christmas holiday, I traveled to New Orleans. The day we landed, I hit a Chase ATM in the French Quarter for some cash, but the machine declined the transaction. Later in the day, we passed a little credit-union's ATM and I used that one instead (I bank with a one-branch credit union and generally there's no fee to use another CU's ATM).

A couple days later, I got a call from my credit union. It was a weekend, during the holiday, and the guy who called was obviously working for my little CU's after-hours fraud contractor. I'd dealt with these folks before – they service a ton of little credit unions, and generally the call quality isn't great and the staff will often make mistakes like mispronouncing my credit union's name.

That's what happened here – the guy was on a terrible VOIP line and I had to ask him to readjust his mic before I could even understand him. He mispronounced my bank's name and then asked if I'd attempted to spend $1,000 at an Apple Store in NYC that day. No, I said, and groaned inwardly. What a pain in the ass. Obviously, I'd had my ATM card skimmed – either at the Chase ATM (maybe that was why the transaction failed), or at the other credit union's ATM (it had been a very cheap looking system).

I told the guy to block my card and we started going through the tedious business of running through recent transactions, verifying my identity, and so on. It dragged on and on. These were my last hours in New Orleans, and I'd left my family at home and gone out to see some of the pre-Mardi Gras krewe celebrations and get a muffalata, and I could tell that I was going to run out of time before I finished talking to this guy.

"Look," I said, "you've got all my details, you've frozen the card. I gotta go home and meet my family and head to the airport. I'll call you back on the after-hours number once I'm through security, all right?"

He was frustrated, but that was his problem. I hung up, got my sandwich, went to the airport, and we checked in. It was total chaos: an Alaska Air 737 Max had just lost its door-plug in mid-air and every Max in every airline's fleet had been grounded, so the check in was crammed with people trying to rebook. We got through to the gate and I sat down to call the CU's after-hours line. The person on the other end told me that she could only handle lost and stolen cards, not fraud, and given that I'd already frozen the card, I should just drop by the branch on Monday to get a new card.

We flew home, and later the next day, I logged into my account and made a list of all the fraudulent transactions and printed them out, and on Monday morning, I drove to the bank to deal with all the paperwork. The folks at the CU were even more pissed than I was. The fraud that run up to more than $8,000, and if Visa refused to take it out of the merchants where the card had been used, my little credit union would have to eat the loss.

I agreed and commiserated. I also pointed out that their outsource, after-hours fraud center bore some blame here: I'd canceled the card on Saturday but most of the fraud had taken place on Sunday. Something had gone wrong.

One cool thing about banking at a tiny credit-union is that you end up talking to people who have actual authority, responsibility and agency. It turned out the the woman who was processing my fraud paperwork was a VP, and she decided to look into it. A few minutes later she came back and told me that the fraud center had no record of having called me on Saturday.

"That was the fraudster," she said.

Oh, shit. I frantically rewound my conversation, trying to figure out if this could possibly be true. I hadn't given him anything apart from some very anodyne info, like what city I live in (which is in my Wikipedia entry), my date of birth (ditto), and the last four digits of my card.

Wait a sec.

He hadn't asked for the last four digits. He'd asked for the last seven digits. At the time, I'd found that very frustrating, but now – "The first nine digits are the same for every card you issue, right?" I asked the VP.

I'd given him my entire card number.

Goddammit.

The thing is, I know a lot about fraud. I'm writing an entire series of novels about this kind of scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

And most summers, I go to Defcon, and I always go to the "social engineering" competitions where an audience listens as a hacker in a soundproof booth cold-calls merchants (with the owner's permission) and tries to con whoever answers the phone into giving up important information.

But I'd been conned.

Now look, I knew I could be conned. I'd been conned before, 13 years ago, by a Twitter worm that successfully phished out of my password via DM:

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

That scam had required a miracle of timing. It started the day before, when I'd reset my phone to factory defaults and reinstalled all my apps. That same day, I'd published two big online features that a lot of people were talking about. The next morning, we were late getting out of the house, so by the time my wife and I dropped the kid at daycare and went to the coffee shop, it had a long line. Rather than wait in line with me, my wife sat down to read a newspaper, and so I pulled out my phone and found a Twitter DM from a friend asking "is this you?" with a URL.

Assuming this was something to do with those articles I'd published the day before, I clicked the link and got prompted for my Twitter login again. This had been happening all day because I'd done that mobile reinstall the day before and all my stored passwords had been wiped. I entered it but the page timed out. By that time, the coffees were ready. We sat and chatted for a bit, then went our own ways.

I was on my way to the office when I checked my phone again. I had a whole string of DMs from other friends. Each one read "is this you?" and had a URL.

Oh, shit, I'd been phished.

If I hadn't reinstalled my mobile OS the day before. If I hadn't published a pair of big articles the day before. If we hadn't been late getting out the door. If we had been a little more late getting out the door (so that I'd have seen the multiple DMs, which would have tipped me off).

There's a name for this in security circles: "Swiss-cheese security." Imagine multiple slices of Swiss cheese all stacked up, the holes in one slice blocked by the slice below it. All the slices move around and every now and again, a hole opens up that goes all the way through the stack. Zap!

The fraudster who tricked me out of my credit card number had Swiss cheese security on his side. Yes, he spoofed my bank's caller ID, but that wouldn't have been enough to fool me if I hadn't been on vacation, having just used a pair of dodgy ATMs, in a hurry and distracted. If the 737 Max disaster hadn't happened that day and I'd had more time at the gate, I'd have called my bank back. If my bank didn't use a slightly crappy outsource/out-of-hours fraud center that I'd already had sub-par experiences with. If, if, if.

The next Friday night, at 5:30PM, the fraudster called me back, pretending to be the bank's after-hours center. He told me my card had been compromised again. But: I hadn't removed my card from my wallet since I'd had it replaced. Also, it was half an hour after the bank closed for the long weekend, a very fraud-friendly time. And when I told him I'd call him back and asked for the after-hours fraud number, he got very threatening and warned me that because I'd now been notified about the fraud that any losses the bank suffered after I hung up the phone without completing the fraud protocol would be billed to me. I hung up on him. He called me back immediately. I hung up on him again and put my phone into do-not-disturb.

The following Tuesday, I called my bank and spoke to their head of risk-management. I went through everything I'd figured out about the fraudsters, and she told me that credit unions across America were being hit by this scam, by fraudsters who somehow knew CU customers' phone numbers and names, and which CU they banked at. This was key: my phone number is a reasonably well-kept secret. You can get it by spending money with Equifax or another nonconsensual doxing giant, but you can't just google it or get it at any of the free services. The fact that the fraudsters knew where I banked, knew my name, and had my phone number had really caused me to let down my guard.

The risk management person and I talked about how the credit union could mitigate this attack: for example, by better-training the after-hours card-loss staff to be on the alert for calls from people who had been contacted about supposed card fraud. We also went through the confusing phone-menu that had funneled me to the wrong department when I called in, and worked through alternate wording for the menu system that would be clearer (this is the best part about banking with a small CU – you can talk directly to the responsible person and have a productive discussion!). I even convinced her to buy a ticket to next summer's Defcon to attend the social engineering competitions.

There's a leak somewhere in the CU systems' supply chain. Maybe it's Zelle, or the small number of corresponding banks that CUs rely on for SWIFT transaction forwarding. Maybe it's even those after-hours fraud/card-loss centers. But all across the USA, CU customers are getting calls with spoofed caller IDs from fraudsters who know their registered phone numbers and where they bank.

I've been mulling this over for most of a month now, and one thing has really been eating at me: the way that AI is going to make this kind of problem much worse.

Not because AI is going to commit fraud, though.

One of the truest things I know about AI is: "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

I trusted this fraudster specifically because I knew that the outsource, out-of-hours contractors my bank uses have crummy headsets, don't know how to pronounce my bank's name, and have long-ass, tedious, and pointless standardized questionnaires they run through when taking fraud reports. All of this created cover for the fraudster, whose plausibility was enhanced by the rough edges in his pitch - they didn't raise red flags.

As this kind of fraud reporting and fraud contacting is increasingly outsourced to AI, bank customers will be conditioned to dealing with semi-automated systems that make stupid mistakes, force you to repeat yourself, ask you questions they should already know the answers to, and so on. In other words, AI will groom bank customers to be phishing victims.

This is a mistake the finance sector keeps making. 15 years ago, Ben Laurie excoriated the UK banks for their "Verified By Visa" system, which validated credit card transactions by taking users to a third party site and requiring them to re-enter parts of their password there:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090331094020/http://www.links.org/?p=591

This is exactly how a phishing attack works. As Laurie pointed out, this was the banks training their customers to be phished.

I came close to getting phished again today, as it happens. I got back from Berlin on Friday and my suitcase was damaged in transit. I've been dealing with the airline, which means I've really been dealing with their third-party, outsource luggage-damage service. They have a terrible website, their emails are incoherent, and they officiously demand the same information over and over again.

This morning, I got a scam email asking me for more information to complete my damaged luggage claim. It was a terrible email, from a noreply@ email address, and it was vague, officious, and dishearteningly bureaucratic. For just a moment, my finger hovered over the phishing link, and then I looked a little closer.

On any other day, it wouldn't have had a chance. Today – right after I had my luggage wrecked, while I'm still jetlagged, and after days of dealing with my airline's terrible outsource partner – it almost worked.

So much fraud is a Swiss-cheese attack, and while companies can't close all the holes, they can stop creating new ones.

Meanwhile, I'll continue to post about it whenever I get scammed. I find the inner workings of scams to be fascinating, and it's also important to remind people that everyone is vulnerable sometimes, and scammers are willing to try endless variations until an attack lands at just the right place, at just the right time, in just the right way. If you think you can't get scammed, that makes you especially vulnerable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

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

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

#pluralistic #social engineering #phishing #ai #swiss cheese security #infosec #finance #fraud #carding

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