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hand-written-dreams · 9 months ago

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CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 06

Error 404 - File Not Found

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues.

- ( The song of the chapter is "Daddy Issues" by The Neighbourhood ft. Syd)

Khushi sits in front of her laptop screen, staring at the empty file that once held her escape. It feels as if the code of her life has been rewritten, lines of her plan deleted without warning.

She managed to recover some of the files from her formatted computer but the most important folder is, of course.

Empty.

Her encrypted freedom was hijacked by an unseen hacker, who tore down her firewall from the inside and rewrote her life's code with a single keystroke.

She feels the walls closing in, like the network is shrinking, suffocating. Every key she types echoes like the ticking of a countdown. Each attempt to trace the hacker, to recover even a shred of her stolen evidence, hits a dead-end. The once familiar language of numbers and commands, her shield, now betrays her, leaving her exposed in the dark web.

She hadn’t dared to keep a physical backup, knowing the risks of his father finding it. Instead, she had placed all her trust in the cloud, a decision she now regretted bitterly.

Because the bastard found it.

Every file, every carefully constructed layer of her work, wiped clean. Hacked and erased by him with surgical precision, as if mocking her for thinking she could ever be one step ahead.

The trap is perfect.

She feels herself sinking into it.

The safety protocols failing one by one.

There's no backdoor, no way to break the code that now binds her, leaving her frozen in a system she thought she could outsmart.

The last few days were tough, frustration gnawing at her ever since that unexpected meeting with Mr. Raizada.

Damn it, Damn him.

She will be lying, if she says she isn't sacred of 'Mr. I-despise-you'.

Actually

He terrifies her.

The man is like an encrypted code filled with blank spaces, written in hidden algorithms that she had no idea how to decipher. So much information, so many answers encrypted within his layers. And she had no idea where to find the correct data sequence to decrypt his mysteries.

Sighing, she shakes her head, as if to remove Mr. Raizada out of her head. She leans back into her pillow, closing her eyes to escape the strain of too much screen time, replaying the events that happened last few days.

After ditching her bodyguards, again, she slipped into the city yesterday to meet one of her college professors, someone brilliant enough to maybe help her trace the hacker. After days of gruelling effort on her own, pushing her limits until her eyes stung and her hands ached, he was her last hope.

She explained the situation as vaguely as possible, hoping he'd see something she missed, some miracle solution that would break her free. But there was none. Just more dead ends.

Finally, after exhausting all options, Khushi decides to wait. Patience will have to be her strategy for now. She plans to rely on the network of resources she has meticulously planted throughout the house...hidden cameras, discreet microphones, and surveillance equipment. Each one is her carefully placed set of eyes and ears, her silent sentinels. All the while, she prays no one discovers them.

If she can't act yet, she can at least watch and listen, biding her time until the perfect moment to strike.

And meanwhile, she hopes for something significant to unfold, something she can use to her advantage, something she can leverage to turn the situation in her favour.

She hacks into the main circuits of the house's CCTV system, gaining full control. Now, every camera, every angle is at her command. She watches the feeds stream through her laptop, monitoring every movement in the house without anyone suspecting her. It's her own invisible web.

Through the CCTV feeds, Khushi scans the sprawling mansion her father built in Delhi after their move from Kolkata, a blend of traditional Indian designs and modern conveniences.

The mansion may look like a symbol of status and power from the outside, but through her feeds, she sees it for what it is.

'A gilded cage'

It is filled with secrets and shadows, a place designed to control both the outside world and the people trapped inside it.

Her father recently had the house repainted. No matter how many fresh coats are added, the crimson will always remain, splattered beneath the pristine white wall.

Unseen but never forgotten.

Nothing in the mansion screams opulence. The carefully curated simplicity is just another layer of control. The wealth is there, woven into the fabric of every room, hidden beneath a veil of restraint, much like her father's carefully maintained image.

Her father cannot openly flaunt his wealth, as any display can draw the scrutiny of the Income Tax Department or the Anti-Corruption Bureau. Though these departments are in his pocket, it's always better to be safe than sorry.

She observes the Entrance hall, with its polished marble floors gleaming under the soft lighting. Beyond the hall, a staircase rises, curving upwards like something out of an old-world palace, its handrails intricately carved from dark mahogany, leading to the upper levels of the house.

The mansion is filled with abstract artwork, some genuine, some likely smuggled. Large French windows overlook manicured lawns, but she knows every one of those windows is equipped with bulletproof glass.

Her father's study is discreetly tucked away behind a solid wooden door on the first floor. It's the heart of his operations.

It was always off-limits to her, a place of secrecy and constant mystery. Despite all her expertise, she can't infiltrate the walls with any of her surveillance tools.

No camera can penetrate those walls.

There's no CCTV as well.

It frustrates her endlessly, knowing that within those walls are the answers she sought. But she isn't entirely powerless. She has managed to plant a small microphone inside a flower vase during one of her rare visits, hoping it would give her some access to the world her father has kept hidden. Now, as she pulls up the feed, she wonders if it's still active.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard as the feed comes to life. It's still active!! Relief washes over her as she adjusts the volume. The faint crackle of static confirms the microphone is picking up sound. She connects her headphones swiftly.

Voices float in the background.

Pulse quickens.

Breathing ceases.

And she listens.

".....what should we do next, sir?" The gruff voice of Mr. Sharma filters through. He is the lifelong bodyguard/right-hand man of her father.

"I said it was a bad idea," her father snaps, his frustration palpable even through the static. "But he was so stubborn... and oh so impatient... he could wait a few days...I had it all planned."

"Mr.Jha picked someone so unprofessional for such a sensitive job," Mr.Sharma commented.

A pause....

A static....

"That lousy motherfucker Rocky botched the entire thing. Soon they will find out, we were behind it." Her father's voice drops lower, almost a growl.

"Why did Mr. Jha act without consulting us? We could have handled it on his behalf, " frustration creeps into Mr. Sharma's voice as well.

"He thought he was avenging his father," her father replies.

"If you don't mind, can I ask something, Sir?" Mr.Sharma asks. Her father might have given him the green signal because a minute later, he continues, "He said he was sure about who killed his father. But how could that be? The person he's talking about was just a boy back then...what, 14 or 15?"

A long, tense silence follows before her father responds, his voice now cold and measured. "We never truly know the monsters people carry inside them."

Mr. Sharma says cautiously, "But how does killing the Wolves' daughter fit into that revenge?"

Another pause. Her breath catches as her father's voice cuts through, sharp and suspicious. "Someone's been feeding him information. He believed he'd killed The Vulture's sister."

Her mouth hangs open, as her heartbeat picks up. Holy fucking shit!!

"But why would his sister be with The Wolves?"

"We had no idea where the girl went after her mother's death, but Mr. Rathore has a nasty habit of using daughters as bargaining chips, doesn't he?" her father's voice drops down.

There was a long pause as if her father was in deep thought. "It's entirely possible he handed the girl over to the wolves to hide her identity or.... worse.. exchanged her with a daughter of the wolves to gain leverage over someone in their family."

"Do you think she really was his sister?"

Khushi leans in closer, her heart racing as she strains to catch her father's reply.

"Let's hope she wasn't." her father responds, his voice steady yet a dark, bitter shadow overpowers his voice. "If she was, the hell will break loose."

"If we're lucky," he continues after a pause, "...no one will ever find out we're behind it. But the way it was handled... so sloppily...it's only a matter of time before the wolves figure it out. It's a direct slap to their face. And if she was indeed his sister, soon both the Eagles and the Wolves will be at our throats.. This is war. They'll demand retribution....You understand what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah," Mr.Sharma responds grimly. "We need to tighten our security. And with Mr. Jha's political campaign underway, we'll have to stay on high alert."

"I'm concerned about the Wolves' new security expert, Adam Marcus. He's a former American Navy SEAL, and people have already started calling him 'the hound dog.' They say he has a special talent for digging up dirt. Keep an eye on him."

"Sir?" Mr. Sharma asks after a brief pause, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. "Should we alert your daughter?"

"There's no need," her father replies, his tone dismissive yet sharp. "It's not her safety I'm worried about, it's ours. And our reputation is what's at risk right now."

Yes, of course. What's new?

Her father's indifference no longer surprises or bothers her.

Then his father's faint voice crackles in the faint static as if he were talking to himself, "The Eagles won't hurt her..''

"Sorry, Sir, I didn’t quite catch that."

"It's nothing. Do as I say.....Tell..."

A sharp knock on her door jolts Khushi from her thoughts, sending her heart racing. Panic floods her as she hastily shoves her laptop beneath a pillow. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to smooth away her startled expression before standing up.

Mr. Jha's smiling face peeks through the ajar door,

"Khushi," he beams, his voice light, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"..umm..Hello, Mr.Jha." Khushi just gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"Khushi, Khushi, Khushi," he says with an almost playful tone as he steps into her room, a package in his hand. He sinks into the chair at her desk. "You look more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

Light filters weakly through the curtains, casting elongated shadows across the floor that seem to shift with the tension. Her room, her sanctuary amidst the chaos of her life started to feel different all of a sudden, taut, like a wire ready to snap. It feels exposed.

So does she.

She's always kept her space simple-a bed neatly tucked in one corner, a sleek desk where she often loses herself in study and a leather couch facing the TV. If she listens closely, it feels like she can hear the silent screams of her furniture.

Her bookshelf in the corner, filled with books she escapes into, stands as a silent witness, but nothing in this space feels safe now. It's as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. Waiting

Just like her.

Khushi stares at Mr. Jha with a blank expression, realizing he's waiting for a response, evident from the expectant look on his face.

"Mr. Jha, you just saw me two days ago," she says dryly.

He smirks, eyes glinting. "You're a beauty I could never tire of praising..... and soon, my goddess, you'll be my wife. Drop this 'Mr. Jha' nonsense. I have a name. Call me Shyam."

Standing, he strides over to her, his fingers wrapping around her hand before she can pull it away. He places the package in her palm. "This is for you."

She resists the strong urge to yank her hand free and step back. But that would be disrespectful and her father would have her head for it. He made it perfectly clear to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Jha."

He sighs, frustration leaking into his eyes. "Come on, open it."

Reluctantly, she pulls apart the wrapping. Inside is a deep red saree with intricate borders, adorned with shimmering stones. She glances at him, confusion flickering across her face.

"We're going on a date tonight," he declares with smug satisfaction.

"Oh..." she falters, unsure of how to respond.

"We'll be joined by some of my party's politicians and their wives. They've been eager to meet you for a while."

She blinks, still processing. The last thing she feels like doing is entertaining those sleazy politicians.

"Wear the saree. You just look divine in red. " Mr.Jha's tone drops down an octave, "Red suits you, but having you all to myself suits you more." His hand lingers on her forearm, sliding up toward her shoulder, then her face. Her stomach tightens, and she bites her lip, wishing he would stop. Her throat tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing it. Every breath she took felt shallow, incomplete, like she was drowning in the very air around her. The urge to pull away, to run, to be anywhere but here, was overwhelming, yet she remained frozen, trapped in the politeness expected of her.

A sharp knock breaks the tension. Mr. Jha steps back, clearly irritated. It's Buaji.

"Mr. Jha, Mr. Gupta is waiting for you in his study."

Khushi exhales deeply, releasing a breath she doesn't realize she is holding as she grips the package with trembling hands. Mr.Jha flashes her a smile that promises this isn't over, before leaving the room with unsettling ease.

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, Khushi feels her entire body sag with relief, her shoulders falling as if unburdened by an invisible force.

The stillness that follows his departure is welcomed.

She savores the quiet.

It is all she has at this moment.

Author's note:

Hello-hi bye-bye, sweet readers ☺️

Thank you for reading! It's always exciting to share this story with you. Drop a comment if you enjoyed it, and don't forget to hit the star! Until the next chapter!

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @shiyaravi @titaliya @arshiradio

#arnav singh raizada #ipkknd #khushi kumari gupta #arnav and khushi #arshi #13 years of ipkknd #arshi fanfic #crimson_shade #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta

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dcrkcloud · 6 months ago

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BASICS

NAME: marley clark NICKNAMES: mar, marl, clarkey GENDER: cis female PRONOUNS: she/her BIRTHDAY: february 14, 1998 AGE: 27 HEIGHT: 5'6" SEXUALITY: bisexual OCCUPATION: event planner at lagoon library LIVING: mango bay lofts apartment #3b TIME IN PALM VIEW: since age 14

DETAILS

POSITIVE TRAITS: creative, loyal, determined, enthusiastic, helpful. NEUTRAL TRAITS: stubborn, nervous, whimsical, awkward, sarcastic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: a little judgemental, guarded, cautious, self-critical. LIKES: photography, rainy days, dancing in the kitchen, journaling. DISLIKES: people who mock others, long drives, the smell of incense.

HISTORY TW PARENTAL DEATH, CAR ACCIDENT

Adopted at birth, Marley’s home has always been full of love and joy. Her fathers raised her to find curiosity in everything she does, played music and games every afternoon to make their cosy house feel like a home. It’s at a young age that she starts to play video games, tucked under the covers late into the night with a light over her Gameboy. The extended worlds of science fiction novels and movies follow soon after, and by middle school, she has a million and one interests and the label nerd amongst her peers.

A move across the globe to be closer to one side of her family is Marley's chance to start fresh. She's learnt to hide it by the time she enters the American high school system, and it doesn't take long for a friendship group to pick her up. They've been together since they were kids, but they're seemingly happy to add an eager-to-please Marley into the mix.

Her parents disapproval of her double life only seems to make things worse — at school, she works harder to fit in to the wrong crowd than to graduate, and at home, she locks herself in her room using fictional worlds to bury the guilt.

It comes to a head at eighteen, when her partner for a project in her final year says she's not what they expected at all — and in a good way, this time. It takes another perspective for her to see how fast she's free-falling down this hole, but her new friend's kind words are a thrown rope she can latch onto to begin pulling herself back out.

Cutting off all her friends in the last few months of high school is the hardest thing she's ever had to do, but the finish line ahead helps her push through it. She finally gets a taste of what it's like to be the one on the receiving end of the bad behaviour she'd embraced at the start and it stings but she reminds herself she deserves it.

Despite knowing it's only said to hurt her, their words on her adoption sit with her beyond graduation. She'd never need any family other than the one she's got, but she was curious — where had she come from? Why had they given her up? Who else was out there? Encouraged by her fathers, she began to dig.

Finding out they'd been living in the same town until they moved to Palmview sends her spiralling again. They could have easily already met, passed by each other in the street — her mother, father, and two half-sisters, whom their mother had kept until the car accident that took her life in 2014. Armed with only half the answers, Marley should have sought more, but the thought of finding out the truth terrified her.

So she shreds the papers, deletes all the files from her computer — she has everything she needs right here. Why worry about a family that never wanted her when there's one who adores her right here? Why constantly concern herself with acceptance from others when the right people will love her just as she is?

Adulthood proves Marley to be as stubborn as one would expect. Her determination to hide in the past becomes a fierce dedication to finding a space for herself as she is. She's goofy and loveable if she can only learn to let people in.

TRIVIA

Marley’s favourite Star Wars film is whichever she’s seen most recently when you ask. She’s also a proud fan of the sequel trilogy — most of it, anyway.

Though she doesn't dedicate as much time to it anymore, Marley has always loved cosplaying. Her favourite she's ever made, and thus her favourite to wear, being her Twilight Princess Zelda.

Marley's brief stints underage smoking and drinking in high school were only when she was being watched. In reality, she hates the taste and smell of both. Hence, bars and clubs aren't really her thing.

Despite graduating almost a decade ago, old habits die hard and Marley can sometimes be hard to get to know. It isn't that she doesn't trust others, if anything she gives her loyalty a little too easily, but that she is just so used to not talking about her interests without prompt. Sometimes the best way to find out about her is to simply ask — though it isn't always easy to get her to stop rambling once you do.

Marley has worked at Lagoon Library for five years now. Before that, she had been working in a 24-hour convenience store since graduation, but left because she hated the graveyard shifts. She worked/networked her way up to her current role, starting as a volunteer towards the end of high school. She's also happy to pick up the odd job for / on behalf of friends, particularly clothing alterations, amateur photoshoots, car rides — especially paid, since every little helps!

LINKS

connections - wanted & established

RESOURCES

gif packs #1, #2 & #3

#palmviewintro #m:marley

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3kl4ire · 2 months ago

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this might be super random but i saw one of your reblogs a while back and i just wanted to clarify that deleting sims does not actually shred character files, it's completely safe to do and won't corrupt your hoods or anything ! you've probably heard of april black and her ts2 deep dive/debunk videos by now but i just felt like mentioning this lol

Good to know !! ..not me spreading misinformation 😭

I’m not super educated on what does and doesn’t corrupt your save (I still mostly have that old mentality that doing anything involving a trash icon in your game makes it a BFBVFS lol). But I have had her video in my watch later on YT for a HOTT minute…..maybe I should give it a watch before I say anything else abt corruption…..oops…

#4skz #the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 #ts2 simblr #ill be answering my backlog of askz lil by lil guyz ^_^#this one’s from almost a year ago 😭 sorry yolk!#🗣️🗣️🗣️

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ivankahasbeentreatedsounfairly · 3 months ago

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The New York Times

By Tiffany Hsu

April 5, 2025

Soon after the new administration arrived, things began to go missing from the White House website.

They weren’t just the partisan policy platforms that typically disappear during a presidential transition. Informational pages about the Constitution and past presidents, up in various forms since President George W. Bush was in office, all vanished.

Thousands of other government web pages had also been taken down or modified, including content about vaccines, hate crimes, low-income children, opioid addiction and veterans, before a court order temporarily blocked part of the sweeping erasure. A Justice Department database tracking criminal charges and convictions linked to the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the Capitol was removed. Segments of data sets are gone, some of the experts who produced them were dismissed, and many mentions of words like “Black,” “women” and “discrimination” have evaporated.

President Trump’s team is selectively stripping away the public record, reconstructing his preferred vision of America in the negative space of purged history, archivists and historians said. As data and resources are deleted or altered, something foundational is also at risk: Americans’ ability to access and evaluate their past, and with it, their already shaky trust in facts.

“This is not a cost-cutting mechanism,” said Kenny Evans, who studies science and technology policy at Rice University’s Baker Institute for Public Policy and runs the White House Scientists Archive at the school. “This slide toward secrecy and lack of transparency is an erosion of democratic norms.”

The casualties are not just digital. The head of the National Archives, which has been described as “the custodian of America’s collective memory,” was fired by Mr. Trump in February. A key source of federal funding for public records depositories nationwide, the Institute of Museum and Library Services, was named in an executive order calling for its elimination “to the maximum extent consistent with applicable law” (its acting director said he planned to “restore focus on patriotism”). As the U.S. Agency for International Development was being gutted, a senior official told employees to shred or burn classified documents and personnel files.

Anna Kelly, a White House spokeswoman, said on X that the disposal process was standard practice for old courtesy copies of paperwork that were largely backed up on classified computer systems. In an emailed statement, she did not address concerns about the removed records, but said that the president regularly communicated with news outlets and directly with the public and was “leading the most transparent administration in history.”

“He is adding transparency by exposing the vast waste, fraud and abuse across the federal government and restoring accountability to taxpayers,” she said.

The campaign of deletion does more than amplify the administration’s policy priorities — it buries evidence of the alternatives in a MAGA-branded memory hole. Several information experts said that Mr. Trump’s executive orders have authoritarian overtones, reminiscent of when Russia cloned Wikipedia, an online encyclopedia, and stripped it of unflattering material. Information experts and civil rights groups fear that a historical vacuum could jeopardize accountability and breed mistrust, especially in an already hostile political environment for researchers who are trying to fight disinformation.

“There are tectonic plates that are shifting, and it’s a new version of truth that is being portrayed, and that, I think, is the most profound danger we have ever faced as a country,” said Laurence H. Tribe, a constitutional scholar and professor emeritus at Harvard Law School.

Even Utah’s Republican lieutenant governor called on Mr. Trump to “bring back our history” after the first American woman to legally vote was removed from the website for Arlington National Cemetery, along with a section on other notable women (her profileis once again available, but the women’s history section is not). References to transgender people disappeared from the National Park Service’s web page for the Stonewall National Monument.

Mr. Trump is not known as an enthusiast of document preservation: Past employees have described his penchant for ripping up documents and flushing papers down the toilet.

But his administration has surfaced some government data. In March, the National Archives released some 64,000 documentsabout the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, including accounting records that contained the Social Security numbers of dozens of government workers from the late 1970s, some of them still living.

The restructuring effort led by Elon Musk through his Department of Government Efficiency, which had been caught in a series of high-profile errors, tried to delete or obscure the mistakes before reversing course last month and adding more details that fact-checkers could use to confirm its claims about the savings it had achieved from canceling federal grants.

In February, a federal judge ordered the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and several other health agencies to temporarily restore pages that had been scrubbed on Mr. Trump’s orders. The Defense Department said it would republish pagesabout Jackie Robinson’s military service, the Enola Gay B-29 bomber that dropped the first atomic bomb, the Tuskegee Airmen, the Navajo Code Talkers and others.

The historical record, however, remains under intense pressure and not just from the government.

Mr. Musk has a vendetta against Wikipedia, which the billionaire derided as “Wokepedia” last year. He called the encyclopedia, which is written and edited by volunteers from the general public, “an extension of legacy media propaganda” after an entry described a gesture he had made during Mr. Trump’s recent inauguration as being “compared to a Nazi salute.” Jimmy Wales, a founder of Wikipedia, pushed back on the social media platform X, saying “that’s fact. Every element of it.”

Data Foundation, a think tank, said in a report last month that changes in federal evidence gathering are coinciding with similar shifts in the private data sector. Those include more than 2,000 layoffs and other departures in March and several analysis firms shutting down entirely. A year ago, Google also removed links to cached pages from its search results, stripping away a longtime feature that helped researchers and others track changes on websites.

Resources from the government have become especially important as researchers find themselves limited or cut off from data reserves kept by social media companies, said Samuel Woolley, the disinformation studies chair at the University of Pittsburgh.

“The idea that suddenly we no longer need oversight or access to the information that allows us to conduct oversight is worrying,” he said. “Getting rid of public records and people who study things like influence operations amounts to a kind of censorship by omission.”

Outside the government, many archivists are now rushing to preserve endangered material.

The Data Rescue Project, which launched in February, is cataloging preservation efforts and backed up government data sets. Since 2008, the End of Term Web Archive has conducted “a comprehensive harvest” of federal government domains and chronicled changes from administration to administration. Initiatives like the Environmental Data & Governance Initiative and the Open Environmental Data Project are storing copies of government climate data.

Another key participant: The Internet Archive, a 28-year-old nonprofit library housed in a stately former Christian Science church in San Francisco. Some 140 workers, mostly engineers, archive more than a billion URLs a day with help from partners such as Cloudflare, WordPress, Reddit and Wikipedia’s parent organization, Wikimedia. The work is funded through donations and web archiving agreements with more than 1,300 schools, museums and libraries.

The Archive has collected more than 700,000 terabytes of archived web pages as one of the partners working on the End of Term project, identifying more than 150,000 government pages that have gone offline since the inauguration.

“What we’re seeing this time around is unprecedented, both in terms of the scope and the scale of the web-based resources that are being taken offline, and material on those pages that is being changed,” said Mark Graham, the director of the Wayback Machine, a digital repository operated through the Internet Archive.

The Archive has faced difficulties in recent years, such as copyright lawsuits from record labels and book publishers seeking hundreds of millions of dollars in damages (the organization had a $28 million budget in 2023). It has also been targeted by cyberattacks.

The Trump administration, however, has not been an obstacle. Mr. Musk has called the archive “awesome” and “a public good that should exist,” even as he complained about “a ton of negative” content that concerned him.

In February, government lawyers argued that the removal of information from the C.D.C. website caused limited harm because the scrubbed pages could still be viewed on the Wayback Machine. A federal judge disagreed, noting that the site does not capture every page, and the ones that are archived do not appear on search engines and can only be found using their original URL.

Mr. Graham, an Air Force veteran who can rattle off URLs from memory, said he has worked seven days a week with few breaks since Mr. Trump took office.

“We’ve seen examples throughout history and all over the world where governments attempt to change culture, change the values of a population by changing and/or restricting access to information,” he said. “I think we still see that to this day.”

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small-bean-bag · 3 months ago

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What happens when you get stuck in a time loop with your worst enemy? After killing the Deputy, Jacob Seed wakes up back before the Reaping started, with questions.

Read on Ao3

Chapters: 12/? (ongoing)

Rating: M

Words: 25k+ (ongoing)

Paring: Jacob Seed x Female Deputy

Pre-canon and During Canon, Slow burn (very slow)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Major character death (but not really), Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Preview:

Jacob couldn't decide what was more insulting: the deputy thinking she had a chance against him and his brothers, or her treating all of this like some kind of game.

He watched the woman's trembling body tied down to the chair, struggling to take another breath. Her clothes were soaked with her own blood, still dripping from her face. He didn’t hold back, not with her.

Wiping his blooded hands with a rug, he clenched his teeth at the stinging pain from his knuckles.

He couldn't brush away the feeling something was off.

The whole time, she didn't make a sound.

"She didn't even pick up a fight, sir", one of the followers reported, when he returned to the Veteran Center. "She was just waiting."

"Where?" he felt his temples pulsing, wondering how they allowed it to happen.

"In your office." he averted his eyes, but under his gaze he added. "On, ehm, your bed, sir."

In his office.

Nothing was left untouched. Papers and plans were shredded and burned, files and recordings deleted, and on top of it all, all of his liquor was gone with an empty glass proudly standing on the nightstand.

Embarrassing. His men let it all happen under their nose, and to make it worse, they let Pratt escape. No matter, his Chosen were already hunting him down, it won't take long before he's dragged back to his chair. Oh, people will pay for their weakness, but first, the little rook.

The morning light creeped into the room through a boarded up window, reflecting against the red splatters on the floor. He glared at the Deputy's limp head.

This was taking too long.

- Is this enough? - he growled at her. - Or do you need more encouragement?

The woman sighed and muttered under her breath:

- You haven't busted my kneecaps yet, so I guess for you, it's a "no".

He grabbed her jaw and forced her to face him. All painted in red and purple, swollen and cold, she was hard to recognize. Only her eyes stayed the same, big and dark brown. A deer in the headlights. A liar.

- Humor hasn't left you yet, has it? - he tightened his hold. - Now, why don't you tell me how you got out?

She gave him a crooked smile.

- You know the answer, I don't need to tell you.

"Pratt", he thought. Maybe he underestimated him.

- But in any case, - she continued. - It doesn't matter, because you can't kill me, Jake. That's the will of the Father.

He threw her head and hit the metal table, making everything jump. Clunking echoed against the walls.

She was goddamn right. Joseph made it crystal clear, "don't harm the deputy, she’s the key to the collapse". Jacob grit his teeth every time she overstepped, took too much, acted too bold... He had to watch his brother suffer after Faith's death, had to watch John make another stupid decision, watch their work crumble in front of them...

If only it was up to him, she wouldn't even be here.

He glanced at the metal surface, all in disorder. And amongst it, laid a hand gun, waiting for him.

- Go on.

He turned to her. Eyes peeking behind brown strands stuck to her face, watching.

- You're tired, - she shrugged. - I'm tired, let's just end it. - she leaned back her head with a cough. - I'm bored of this.

A sigh escaped his lips. Jacob would have lied, if he said he wasn't slightly impressed by her. Men twice her size would break long ago, begging for mercy, but her? She was still mocking him.

- Joseph wants you alive. - he perched on the table, crossing his arms.

She made an annoyed grunt, but he ignored it and continued:

– But it doesn't stop me from making use of you.

- It doesn’t matter. Just shoot me and we’ll be done with this. - she straightened up and looked at him. - Aren’t you tired of this? Of the cult? The Prophecy? Do you ever get tired of this life?

He knew exactly what she was doing.

- Don't test me. - he warned her.

She huffed a laugh, but it quickly turned into coughs and wheezes.

- I'm not Joseph. You don't need to prove anything to me, - she nodded her head. - I know. I know. Only the strong survive. Or so it used to be. - she added, but something sounded odd to him.

- Joseph is not testing me, - he snapped at her. - He knows I'll do anything for the project.

Deputy looked at him from top to bottom, carefully studying him. Finally, in a low voice, she said:

- You think I give a shit if I die? That's my purpose. I give my life for Joseph's and I do it gladly.

He swallowed. Her words... They sounded exactly as if they were his.

- I understand my role, - she finished. - I am his sacrifice. Simple as that.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him with sadness and anger.

- It's not that simple, Seed. Never was, never will be. Your sacrifice won't change a thing. Your death means nothing. No matter what you do, it all will go back to that fucking church. The truth is nothing.

Without thinking, he grabbed the gun.

- And what's the truth?

She gave him a pitiful smile.

- This won't end. There is no win, for me or you or Joseph. Either you kill me now or I'll kill you. But it doesn't matter, history will repeat itself.

He loaded the gun.

- You're crazier than I am. - he shook his head.

- You're not crazy, Seed, - she protested. - Misguided, untreated, manipulated... But not crazy. I repeated this too many times to know it.

- "Repeated this". – he chuckled. – If only it was that simple.

He could swear, her face turned serious.

- It's not fun, Jacob, it's a pure torment. Doing the same thing, over and over again. But you're welcome to try.

He raised the gun.

- I might give it a shot.

- Then, - she smiled. - See you on the other side.

He pulled the trigger.

The alarm clock woke him up.

(Continue on Ao3)

A/N: I forgot, I have this blog and can market my fic. Oh, well. Don't ask why I came back to writing it again after 3 years on hiatus. Or ask, my asks are open.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #fc5 fanfic #fc5 fic #jacob seed x female deputy #jacob seed #oc: anna obuchowska #far cry 5 oc #fc5 oc #my writing

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eddiemunsonbignaturals · 2 years ago

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WIP doc game: Post all the names of your files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive and ridiculous and let people send you an ask with a title that most intrigues them. Then post a little snippet or tell them something about it. Tag as many people as there are WIPs.

@deathbecomesthem hiii eeeeeee thank u for tagging me hope u have a beautiful restful holiday 💓

i need to quit every job and never work again and also kill everyone ik irl and then i can finish a thing more than once per 6 months anyway some WIPs in order of when i last deleted 40% of them lol:

— hope your other nipple fucking falls off

— scabby rip scab stab

—i dont jump around when i go to shows

— princess outline 5 (im not even a chapter in i keep rewriting the SAME SHIT!!!!!)

—eddie munson and the lighter thief (which nothing at all to do w pjo)

— bloody cotton denim shred cold meat

i think u probably all already did this but tagging to say hi n happy new year anyway :3 @jo-harrington @munson-blurbs @storiesbyrhi @ghost-proofbaby @powderblueblood

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totallyexhausted · 2 years ago

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Sick Mob with caring Reigen/ Ritsu...

Just small notes on one of the ff’s in case my computer deletes the files again (so I have like a triple backup)...

(Just random-ass notes for right now to have a back-up back-up for myself) - feel free to comment or motivate me lol jk brb crying....

Title: I’m A Product of My Anger

Mob, I hope you’re listening. Look how much you’ve grown up…

So if Mob passes out basically every time he exerts himself, where does that leave him after loosing control?

Mob hurt/ sick

Reigen caring and self-reflection

“This rejection- this hurt you feel, will pass, Mob,” Reigen said, clasping his hand against the teenager’s shoulder again as the ladder continued to cry. The older man bit his lip as he resisted the urge to pull him into a hug- he wasn’t one to lend out physical touch nor was Mob one to accept it often. Reigen sighed, running a hand through the 14-year’s hair, “How about some Udon, yeah? My treat?”

The 14-year-old nodded slowly, wiping at the tears and snot plastered against his sweaty face as he continued to cry; the sunflower dropping from his hand as he pressed his palms against his eyes- hoping to stop the dam broken inside him. He felt wrong. Hurt. Sick. His body seemed alien and yet so very his; and the air around him was getting hard to suck into lungs between blurry surroundings and tearful gasps. But perhaps that was just heartbreak- or his heart literally breaking. Because that’s what it felt like.

“Mob! What’s happening? What’s wrong!”

“Dimple?”

“Eh!? Do I look like a floating thesaurus for all things Esper? I mean- I mean it could be the fallout from his body losing control. Or perhaps this is the first real emotion Shigeo is willing himself to feel and that is bringing everything else to the surface? Maybe-”

“Like how he passes out every time he overexerts himself…”

“-then again, perhaps it’s the rejection causing his body to flip into overdrive. I mean I’m no expert on Espers, let alone Shigeo-”

“Dimple. Shut it.”

“Mob?” Reigen asked, pressing his hand against the teenager’s shoulder blades gently.

The boy lurched, gagging harshly as vomit splattered against the cracked pavement, and Reigen grimaced as the sound reached his ears; his own stomach turning. Mob retched again, his hands forced against the damaged ground, bile squishing between his fingers as his stomach continued to bring up anything it could find. His arms shook, and he panted, tears still trailing down his face as Tsubomi crossed his mind.

“Shigeo?” Reigen said softly, pulling the 14-year-old against him as he went limp in the older man’s arms. Reigen stretched his left leg outward, wincing as his sore muscles and twisted ankle protested, and he anchored Mob’s body against his own, letting the boy lean against his chest as he peered down to get a better look.

Reigen gasped harshly, his eyes tracing over cuts and bruises he hadn’t seen before, blood oozing down the teenager’s temple, passed his pale features, lining his hairline.

“Nii-Nii-san!”

Ritsu’s knees trembled as he dropped, his hands pressed against the burning pavement as he tried to focus on his brother’s limp body in Reigen’s arms. Tears flooded his vision as he traced over the cuts and bruises, blood splattered against holes in black clothing. Tattered shreds of his uniform, of his brother, and Ritsu let out a loud sob as Reigen readjusted the older boy’s weight in his arms. His head lolled slightly before dropping back, his hair falling away from his face, bloody trails marking up his face, mixing in his hair before dropping against the pavement. His left arm hanging loosely; his movements still, except for the wind gently nudging against his body, his clothes.

“Ritsu,” Dimple appeared beside him, floating above loud sobs breaking free from the 13-year-old’s throat. The teenager reached a hand towards his brother as Reigen stopped next to him, and the ladder cried for his older brother again..

Dimple filled the younger boy’s vision, “Ritsu. Shigeo isn’t dead- he’s just unconscious.”

Ritsu choked, tears falling faster, harder as Ritsu looked back down at the ground; his hands digging against black pavement, his fingers hurting from pressure and blood oozing past cuts that were beginning to clot. He sobbed again as a small smile broke out across his face, relief flooding him as he tried to calm himself. Shigeo was okay- he’d be okay. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t gone… Ritsu hadn’t lost him. This time.

After a few moments, Ritsu’s sobs

“It looks like you forgot to evacuate everyone,” Reigen said, eyeing the officer as they passed, “These boys were left behind.”

“Mom a-and Dad… they need to know- to see him-”

“Not like this,” Reigen interjected harshly, wiping away some of the blood splattered against Mob’s hairline, “They don’t need to see him like this.”

“What! They’re our-”

“They are, and they’ll love you no matter what- but I’ve known Mob long enough to know, he wouldn’t want them to see him like this.”

“Tsk, I’m his brother!”

“And you understand what happened- what he was like. You saw. I’ll take Mob back when he wakes up; when he can explain and talk to them. Otherwise, seeing their oldest son beaten, bruised, bleeding- will make them realize just how much of himself he hides. That could have a worse effect on them- on him- than what happened today.”

“I-I,” Ritsu shut his mouth, glaring towards the windows as sunlight bled through the tiny slats in the blinds. He hadn’t thought about his parents seeing Mob as he was now- bleeding, broken, unconscious. And so very still. The fact that Mob hid himself away for years, locked his true feelings inside himself, holding back everything he felt or thought- hurt. He couldn’t talk to Ritsu not because the younger hadn’t tried but because it was easier for the 14-year-old to keep his pain to himself than bother others. To burden them… If Mom and Dad knew, if they saw all the damage his emotions had done to the town, to others… to himself… well he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be the same- and neither would Mob.

“Sh-Shishou?”

“I-I can’t move well,” Mob’s voice was weak, his eyebrows coming together as his eyes fluttered…

“You’re okay, Mob. Don’t worry- I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

“I-I,” Mob started before gagging loudly, clenching his eyes as he tried to will his body to move with no avail… Reigen pulled him up gently until Mob was in a semi-sitting position, his head leaning against the older man’s shoulder, and Reigen glanced at Ritsu and motioning towards the wastebin next to his desk. The 13-year-old….

“Easy, Mob, easy. You’re alright…”

“M’so tired, Shishou.”

Ritsu had never seen this side of Reigen before. The softer, nurturing side. He always assumed the older man only saw Mob as a profit, an asset- someone he could use for his own benefit. He was a liar after all- a fake, a fraud, and the fact that Shigeo didn’t see the older man that way, pissed Ritsu off. But now… perhaps, the 13-year-old had only seen one side of Reigen- had believed Reigen would never put his brother before his own self-actions or desires. Was he wrong?

“Y-you’re bleeding!” Ritsu said gently, pointing towards the older man’s arm as blood continued to soak the gray material of his suit. Reigen hummed in response, bandaging several cuts on Mob’s fingers…

“Yeah, I know. Pretty sure some of my ribs are broken too- your brother didn’t exactly go easy on me,” Reigen chuckled softly as he pressed the cold compress against Mob’s forehead, “but that’s okay. I’ll take care of it after I know you and him are safe.”

“Dimple, Ritsu, keep an eye of Mob for a few minutes, will you?”

“Where are you going?”

“Across the street to see if the convenience store clerk made it back yet. The evacuation has been lifted, and I can’t get ahold of Serizawa.”

Ritsu pressed his forehead against his brother’s, wincing as heat burned against his own temple. Is this what he went through every time? Every time his powers got away from him? His emotions?

“Nii-san,”

“My-?” Ritsu stopped, looking down at his clothes. Sure, he had several bruises- but he wasn’t bleeding. At least, he wasn’t bleeding like Reigen.

Shigeo and Mob were two separate entities. They had to be. They needed to be. Because together, accepting of each other, they were dangerous.

“This isn’t good, Conman!”

“Dimple!” Reigen growled, glaring in his direction, and Dimple faltered as the older man’s eyes met his. His stare cold and

“Shh, Mob, it’s alright,”

“Nngh. My head,” Mob…

In one fluid movement, Ritsu flicked his hand towards the window before the curtains moved, covering the windows and blocking out the sun filling the small office.

Ritsu hold Mob’s hand--

“I’m sorry, Shishou, I-I don’t feel well,”

“I know. It’s alright. Just close your eyes and rest.”

“Ritsu, you should eat something.”

“No.”

“You’re no use to your brother if you’re drained.”

Reigen thoughts in bathroom inspecting his injuries. His parents had always wanted perfect. Ever since his older sister died. They always expected everything…. They weren’t the reason Reigen was a fuck-up, but they didn’t help. Truth is, Reigen blamed himself more than anything. There was too much guilt there. Too much bad blood he’d spilt. And he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t forgive himself. He was too fucked up.

“Eh!? Reigen!?”

“I-I’m fine. Just,” Reigen wiped the back of his hand against his eyes, hoping to scrape any remaining tears, “Just give me a moment.”

Reigen bounced his leg as he leaned forward in his chair, staring at the dust collecting in the air as he listened to the oldest Kayama() brother’s breathing. He needed a cigarette… bad. But he’d been trying to quit as it had made exercising difficult, but right now, right now he needed a distraction. Something to bring him down, ground him. Besides smoking was better than some of his past vices… safer.

#sick mob #sick shiego #mob psycho #reigen arataka #Ritsu Kageyama #shigeo kageyama #set after s3 #sickfic

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fixedassetdisposalltd · 6 days ago

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Why Every Business Needs a Hard Disk Shredding Service Today

Introduction

In the digital age, where data is both an asset and a liability, businesses are awakening to a critical reality — information must not only be secured during its lifespan but obliterated beyond recovery once it outlives its purpose. The traditional practices of wiping drives or storing them indefinitely are no longer adequate. Today, every organization, from burgeoning startups to legacy corporations, requires a comprehensive hard disk shredding service to ensure data sanctity and regulatory compliance. The urgency to adopt such a service is not merely technological — it’s existential.

The Evolution of Digital Vulnerability

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Regulatory Imperatives and Corporate Accountability

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Beyond Office PCs: The Rise of Electronic Waste and Its Hidden Dangers

Obsolete electronics do not vanish — they transform into liabilities. Old laptops, servers, and external drives, if not handled responsibly, end up in landfills or black markets. This poses both ecological and corporate threats. Improperly discarded devices may contain recoverable data, while contributing to the mounting crisis of global e-waste.

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Data Centre Decommissioning: A High-Stakes Undertaking

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Reputation, Trust, and the Invisible Cost of Negligence

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The Anatomy of a Modern Shredding Protocol

Modern shredding isn’t a mere act of smashing disks with a hammer. It’s an orchestrated process involving chain-of-custody documentation, real-time video capture, barcode tracking, and post-destruction audits. Certified technicians handle the assets with precision, using industrial-grade shredders that mutilate platters into unrecognizable fragments.

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Future-Proofing the Enterprise

Emerging technologies such as blockchain, AI, and quantum computing are poised to revolutionize how data is stored and processed. Yet, these innovations will not eliminate the need for physical data disposal. In fact, they may exacerbate it.

The proliferation of decentralized storage and machine learning datasets will create new forms of hardware reliance. Training datasets, neural weights, and embedded systems will occupy localized storage that eventually becomes obsolete. These will demand the same level of secure disposal as conventional drives.

Forward-looking businesses must weave hard disk shredding service into their digital transformation blueprints. Not as an afterthought, but as a foundational pillar of security infrastructure.

Choosing the Right Partner

Not all shredding services are created equal. The right partner should offer a suite of services that include:

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Regulatory-compliant electronic garbage disposal

Enterprise-grade hard drive destruction service in London

Turnkey data centre decommissioning

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Security is not a department — it is a culture. And that culture is only as strong as its weakest endpoint. Data disposal is that endpoint. Ignoring it is like locking your vault but leaving the key under the mat.

Conclusion: The Silent Sentinel of Cybersecurity

In an era where data breaches dominate headlines and privacy is a geopolitical concern, safeguarding information must extend beyond usage. It must continue after obsolescence, culminating in irreversible destruction.

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Data may be intangible, but its consequences are concrete. And when it comes time to dispose of that data, destruction is the only security that matters.

Source URL - https://medium.com/@fixedassetdisposal11/why-every-business-needs-a-hard-disk-shredding-service-today-cba2fa064fac

#hard disk shredding service #electronic garbage disposal #hard drive destruction service in london #data centre decommissioning

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