#usb token

[karahalloway]

Morally Grey: Part I - Game of Thieves

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Series: Morally Grey

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: Harper's illicit plans go awry when Drake's appearance at the Beaumont Bash throws an unexpected wrench in the works

Word count: 5,000

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, illegal activities, a handful of lemon-scented moments)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: This is my submission for @choicesprompts' Rewrite Challenge and the scene I chose to redo with my OTP is the one from Mission: Impossible II where Nyah steals the necklace from the hacienda in Seville. This is (still) one of my favourite movies of all time and I especially love this scene for the music, the way it's shot, the situational humour and the sexual tension... basically everything about it! 🙃

A/N2: The clips (for anyone who hasn't seen the movie, or doesn't remember) are below (I couldn't find a YouTube video that had the entire scene in one video). Enjoy!

"Evening, ma'am," greets a liveried footman as he reaches for the door handle of the Mercedes AMG SL 63 roadster that I've just revved to a stop. "And welcome to the Beaumont Bash."

"Thanks," I say with a smile, spinning in the seat to swivel my legs out of the car. "Looking forward to seeing if the experience lives up to the hype."

"Oh, I can assure you that it does, ma'am," he chuckles, handing me a token for my car. "The Bash gets wilder every year."

"Does it really?" I ask with wide eyed surprise as I open my clutch up to carefully stow the token away.

"I promise, you will not be disappointed, ma'am," he assures me with a wink.

"Bet your ass I won't, bud," I murmur under my breath as I turn towards the House. "Because I have something special planned for tonight..."

Stepping onto the red carpet lined stairway of the the stately, baroque manor, I can tell that the party is already very much in full swing: the thump of the bass echoes out in the night, the occasional shrill laugher rising above it as shadowy silhouettes drift and mingle.

Which is perfect.

Because even though I am normally very much a punctual kind of girl, there are certain situations where it pays to arrive fashionably late... or not at all.

As in my line of work, timing is everything.

And I intend to make it rain tonight...

...assuming everything goes to plan.

I have no real reason to think that it won’t. After all, I've been planning this job for over a year and I've made sure to account for every step, every detail, down to the time of my arrival, to the way I’ve styled my hair, and even the black lace mini dress I’m wearing.

Because when the potential pay-off is this big, nothing can be left to chance. And I am nothing if not a perfectionist.

Making it to the top of the steps, I am greeted by a pair of burly-looking security guards.

"Good evening, ma'am," says one holding a tablet. "Your name?"

"Lady Riley Brooks," I say with a demure smile.

A lie. But, then again, I’m not stupid enough to have booked myself onto the high-profile guest list under my real name.

The guard taps on the screen a few times before nodding.

"May I take a look at your bag, ma'am?" asks the other.

"Of course," I reply graciously, handing my black leather YSL clutch over.

The guy opens it up, pulling out my phone, a USB charger, a compact mirror, and a tube of lipstick, before slotting everything away again and returning it to my hands.

"Have a good evening, ma'am," he nods, opening his arm to indicate that I may enter.

"I very much intend to," I say with a smirk, stepping through the doorway into the House...

...and I am instantly transported into another world.

The strategically placed mood lights bathe everyone and everything in the lavishly decorated room in a heady mix of rose and violet, providing an ethereal backdrop to the acrobats that are twirling seductively through the air with the help of various hoops, aerial silks, and trapeze lines.

Heightening the trance-like effect are strobe lights that flash in perfect accompaniment to the EDM-remixed classical music, illuminating the glitter and lavender-scent infused smoke slithering around the guests' ankles.

But what truly takes my breath away is the centre piece of the extravagant show, which is a pair of scantily dressed dancers, performing a racy ballet routine on top of a snowy-white Lippizaner.

"Apparently money can buy you anything," I muse softly, surveying the combined effect of the spectacle that is more than on par with anything ever put on by the Cirque du Soleil.

And even though I would love to lose myself in the magic of it all, I’m here for business, not pleasure. Which means that I cannot afford any distractions.

So, taking a breath, I plunge into the crowd. Weaving between the ballgowns and the tuxedos, I'm careful to avoid direct eye contact with anyone as I skirt ‘round the edge of the performance area, trying to look the part while remaining as unassuming as possible.

But despite my attempts to lose myself in the press, I feel an unmistakable tingle rise up the back of my neck.

I'm being watched.

I come to a stop, debating what to do.

Part of my mind tells me that I should ignore it, that it's probably just some drunk duke checking out my ass.

But a deeper, more instinctual part of me knows the difference between a pervy once-over and an unrelenting, focused stare. And this is definitely the latter.

So, probably against my better judgment, I lift my head in silent challenge...

...and my gaze instantly collides with his, bringing the world around me to a sudden, screeching halt.

My breath lodges in my chest as I find myself helplessly immobile under the weight of his scrutiny, like a deer caught in the headlights. The music, the laughter, it all falls away until it feels like it's just me and him, suspended in time and space across the room.

Because even with the distance separating us, I can feel the heat of his gaze scorching into me, stripping me bare, until I'm left naked, exposed in front of him.

And still he doesn't look away. He doesn't blink, or flush, or avert his gaze in any semblance of pretence that his attention had actually been focused on anything else.

He simply stands, unmoving, on the other side of the dancers, his dark eyes binding me unapologetically, giving me no corner, no chance of escape.

Yet escape is exactly what I must do.

I have no clue who this guy is, and I have even less interest in finding out. As best case scenario, he is simply a dangerous distraction. But worst case? He somehow knows exactly who I am and my reason for being here.

And neither of those options are good.

So, as the dancers pirouette across the floor, throwing their arms out and breaking the line of sight that connects us, I wrench myself out of my stupor, diving into the crush behind me.

"Holy shit! Who was that guy?" I gasp under my breath, feeling my heart race at a million miles an hour in response to the strangely intimate nature of the encounter.

But despite my shock, I know in the back of my head that the details are irrelevant. That the only thing that matters is getting as far away from him as possible. Because the last thing I need right now is him following after me and derailing all the hard work I've put into getting here tonight.

Keep it together, Harper, I tell myself, bending my head low as I use the anonymity of the crowd to hide myself, hoping that I've managed to give him the slip.

Reaching the end of the throng without incident, I duck behind a doorway to give myself a second to catch my breath, and make sure that the coast is clear.

Satisfied that I've lost him — at least for the moment — I turn towards my next objective, which is the grand staircases.

It's an exposed location, so I know I'll have to be quick. Especially since there is a pair of guards stationed at the bottom of the steps, tasked with preventing exactly the kind of protocol violation that I am about to commit.

Luckily, just at that moment, a group of very much worse for wear noblewomen stumble out of the main party, shrieking loudly.

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaims one, feathering herself with her silk fan. "Did you see the size of that lad's package!"

"Calm down, Abigail!" admonishes another. "We know that husband of yours is next to useless, but you should at least try to not make such a spectacle of yourself!"

"Mmm, speaking of spectacle..." purrs the first, laying eyes on the guards.

"Abigail!" cries her companion, even as snorts of laughter rise up from the others. "You are absolutely incorrigible!"

"Better to be incorrigible than a vapid, old nun!" comes the pithy response as Abigail stumbles across the hallway.

Seizing my chance, I fall into line at the back of the group as the women crowd around the guards, laughing and swaying as they try to secure their attentions.

As expected, the focus of the guards quickly becomes diverted by the ladies, even if it's only to the extent of trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism in the face of the relentless coquetry, and I use the opportunity to dash up the stairs behind them.

Keeping to the shadows, I fly up the steps two at a time, knowing that I have scant few moments to make it to the upper floor before I am spotted.

Reaching the top of the landing, I throw myself behind a suit of armour. But, it seems that Lady Luck is with me tonight, and apart from the sound of the party continuing in full swing downstairs, I hear no signs of a pursuit.

So, I take advantage of the momentary reprieve to retrieve the pair of satin opera gloves that I've stashed in my garter. Pulling them on, I slip out from my hiding place and make my way towards the master wing, using my mental map of the manor's blueprints as a guide.

Arriving at the correct set of doors, I try the handle, and breathe a sigh of relief when it turns easily in my hand.

I've brought a set of lock-picks with me, of course, but being able to save time and effort in not having to use them is a massive win.

Letting myself into the room, I click the door softly closed behind me.

An opulent, Rocco-inspired suite greets me, complete with a four-poster bed and a full-blown hand-painted mural on the ceiling.

But I’m not here to gawk. And I have precious little time to get what I came for and get out.

So, pulling my compact mirror from my clutch, I open it up to reveal the miniature voltage detector concealed within.

Stepping further into the room, I hold the device out in front of me, the faint chirps serving as a beacon guiding me towards my destination.

The beeping suddenly intensifies as I swing the detector past the line of the bathroom, and I know I'm getting closer.

Adjusting my course, I follow the compass-like arrow in my hand. Zeroing in on the oversized bathtub, I am rewarded with a series of high-pitched cheeps.

Jackpot.

Why someone would choose to hide a safe in a bathroom, not to mention in the vicinity of a bathtub that is prone to flooding and other types of short-circuit causing disasters, I have no idea.

That said, it is innovative.

Though not innovative enough to fool a professional thief like me.

Because that's what I am — a career larcenist who specialises in small, high value items. Jewellery, art, antiques... I’m not picky. As long as it has a five-to-six figure price tag and I can hide it in my cleavage, I am willing to put in the effort to lift it.

And that's why I’m here tonight — to get my hands on the 24 carat Bvlgari diamond necklace that has graced the neck of every Duchess of Ramsford since the turn of the last century. Not only is it worth millions, but it's also a stunning work of art. And it deserved to be worn, rather than gathering dust in an expensive safe somewhere.

Scooting into the marble tub, I place my clutch onto the mosaic tiled surround as I scan the expanse of the walls with the voltage detector.

The indicator suddenly jumps to the right and down, and I can't help but feel the familiar rush of butterflies in my stomach.

This is it.

Dropping the detector back in my clutch, I extract my phone and the tube of lipstick. Twisting the bottom off the tube, I pull out the miniature lock-pick hiding within and, with the help of the flashlight on my phone, I begin to move over the tiles, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Suddenly I spot it — a tiny inconsistency in the mortar between the edge of two tiles. Reaching down with the pick, I dig at the protrusion until it pops free, revealing some kind of card slot.

Turning the flashlight off on my phone, I flip it over and snap the protective cover off, exposing a flimsy bit of plastic nestled within. Connecting the keycard decoder to my phone via the micro-USB port, I slot it into the nearly invisible slit between the tiles.

Booting up the hidden app on my phone, I quickly run the hack program and am rewarded with a beep and a click as the high-tech safety net falls away...

...only to have my sense of achievement instantly dashed.

Because instead of a discreet jewellery box nestled in the belly of the safe, I am greeted with yet another layer of security.

A slice of mosaic tile slides back on the bathtub surround to reveal a complicated-looking, multi-lock compartment within.

And this one has no electronic overrides.

"Crap..."

"I see you've found it."

"Jesus Christ!" I gasp, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sound of the unfamiliar and unexpected voice.

Whipping around, I come face to face with the guy from downstairs, perched on the side of the tub with a conspiratorial smirk on his face.

Like this is all some kind of massive joke.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demand, angry at him for sneaking up on me, but even angrier at myself for letting him get this close in the first place without my warning bells going off.

Because thieves without self-preservation instincts don't survive long... and mine have just let me down big time.

Which is even more annoying given the fact that he is staring at me with that calculating, predatory gaze again, his entire body exuding a tightly-coiled, barely suppressed energy, like a panther waiting to pounce.

And even though he is dressed in a custom-tailored suit that moulds effortlessly to his muscled form like a second skin, and the watch that peeks out from beneath his cuff is worth almost as much as my car, he isn’t fooling me. Not one bit.

Because as much as he’s tried to hide it, he is an interloper here. Just like me.

His rich baritone is missing that characteristic upwards inflection that the nobility like to force upon their speech in an effort to differentiate themselves from the rest of us. And no duke, count, or baron would be caught dead with the type of five-o'clock shadow this guy is sporting, much less condone the uninhibited way with which his thick, chocolate-coloured hair has been left to fall around his face.

But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to lower my guard. Just the opposite.

Because regardless of who he is, or what he looks like (...which is hotter than hell), the guy reeks of trouble.

And his next words only help reaffirm my initial assessment.

"Think you're the only one who can pick a lock?" he asks, brow quirking upwards in sardonic challenge.

"Pfft!" I snort. "Seeing is believing, bud, and as far as I can see, I'm the only one wh—"

The sound of the bedroom door clicking open interrupts whatever retort I was going to throw at him.

Our eyes meet — mine in panic, his in measured curiosity — and in the next instant, I've grabbed the lapel of his expensive jacket, and yanked him towards me.

We hit the bottom of the tub just as the owner of the manor bursts irately into the room.

"I swear to God, Maxwell," seethes the Duke of Ramsford, the stomp of his pissed-off footsteps echoing off the wood planked floor as he enters the suite, "if one more ruddy bird defecates on my shoe, I'm culling the entire bloody lot!"

"He just got scared!" comes his companion's plaintive response. "You did boot him up the behind in a very undignified fashion..."

"Because he shat on my Oxfords!" cries the Duke, clearly incensed, as he rummages around the closet, no doubt for a replacement pair of loafers.

"Maybe if you tried being nicer to Lord Featherington—"

An unintended snort escapes me. Were these two for real right now?

"You try'na give away our position?" asks the guy from above me, his voice barely a whisper as his face hovers mere inches from mine.

"No," I hiss back, trying to sound irritated even as I struggle to contain another bout of amusement at the sheer hilarity of the situation — listening to two grown men argue about peafowl while trying to hide a third between my legs. "But it sounds like you are."

"I happen to like this position," he murmurs softly, his words sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

"Well, don't get used to it, bud," I reply dryly, trying to ignore the feel of his overwhelming and inescapable proximity, while listening out for the Beaumont brothers. "This is a temporary situation, nothing more."

His whiskey-laced breath washes over my lips. "All the more reason to enjoy it..."

"In that case," I purr, meeting the full force of his rich, mocha-coloured eyes head on, "you wouldn't mind if I'm on top, would you?"

"Not one bit," he grins.

"Good," I smirk back as I begin to shift my weight beneath him. "Because I wouldn't have given you a choice, anyway."

He stifles a scoff as he rolls to the side.

"Something funny?" I ask with a raised brow, scooting out from under him.

"Nope," he replies, snaking a hand around my waist to pull me on top of him. "I'm just here for the ride."

"Then you better get comfortable," I tell him, as the Beaumonts make their way back across the room.

Hearing the door open and click shut again in their wake, I push myself back up, noting with more than a hint of annoyance that I now smell like the warm spice of his aftershave.

But that inconvenience can’t be helped, nor can I let it distract me from the reason I am here. I'll simply have to wait to wash it off in the shower once I am clear of this place.

So, reaching into my up-do, I extract the tension wrench hiding in my hair, and collect my lock-pick from where I dropped it on the bathtub surround earlier before refocusing my attention on the safe.

Upon closer examination, it seems to have three separate compartments, each secured by its own, dedicated lock. And I have no idea which section contained the necklace... or whether there are any hidden alarms embedded in the locking mechanisms if I pick the wrong one.

But, even with the odds — and time — stacked against me, I know I have to make a choice, because I didn't come all this way to chicken out at the final hurdle.

Taking a breath, I lean towards the middle compartment, figuring that out of the three possibilities that woul—

"You're not gonna find it there."

I nearly drop my tools all over the marble tiles.

Gritting my teeth, I glance down between my legs to find Mr Impeccable Timing smirking up at me, his hands folded easily behind his head, like he’s lazing on a tropical beach without a single care in the world, instead of at the bottom of a porcelain tub, with a stranger straddling him.

"Find what?" I bite out testily.

Who knows...? Maybe this is his idea of a good time. But it sure as hell isn’t mine.

"The former Lady Beaumont's one-of-kind Bvlgari necklace that goes up for auction next Tuesday," he replies.

My eyes narrow suspiciously. "And are you going to tell me where it is?"

He holds my gaze silently for a long moment before nodding his head, "Far left."

"Hmph," I huff, not convinced that I can trust him any further than I can throw him; which, given his size — he’s 6ft tall at least — is not very far at all.

But, unfortunately for me, I don't have time to try and psychoanalyse the possibility of whether or not he is trying to play me. The night is wearing on, the Beaumonts could return at any time, and I need to get as far out of the country as humanly possible before anyone notices the theft.

So, I am going to have to take a leap of faith.

Leaning forward again, I slide my tools into the lock of the indicated compartment and start feeling around for the binding pins.

I manage to locate the first and second relatively quickly. But, finding and setting the third proves to be slightly more elusive and I feel myself growing more agitated with each passing second.

"Damn it, why won't you move?!" I seethe under my breath as I battle with the pin.

"Hey, you put me here, remember?" comes the wry response from beneath me. "I just do as I—"

"Oh, screw you..." I huff exasperatedly, lifting my leg to give him a perfunctory knee to the gut.

"Christ, girl!" he wheezes painedly, sitting up behind me. "If you want to play rough then—"

"Gotcha!" I exclaim triumphantly, finally managing to slot the irksome pin into place and making quick work of the fourth.

The door of the compartment pings off its bolts and I drop my tools to open it up eagerly. To my relief, I'm rewarded with a velvet-lined jewellery box, which I pull quickly out.

Laying the container down on the tiles in front of me, I reach for the lid, my heart in my mouth as I lift it up...

...and I can't help but gasp at the sight in front of me.

The diamond necklace is even more stunning in real life than I could've imagined. Several hundred painstakingly curated gems gleam up at me from a nest of black silk, perfectly offsetting the elegance of the winged design to make it seem like the whole necklace is floating.

But, given that I am working on borrowed time thanks to all the unforeseen setbacks that I've run into tonight, I know that I am not going to be able to give the beautiful item the attention it deserves. At least not until I am back home.

So, reaching down, I grab the coolness of the white gold. Quickly unscrewing the heavy clasp, I unfurl the strand of precious metal and slide it down into my bra, giving my breasts a slight readjustment to help conceal my illicit cargo.

Snapping the lid of the box back closed, I turn to face my uncalled-for spectator.

"Right," I say, slotting the box back into its place. "Now that that's done, you're going to tell me exactly who you are and—"

"I wouldn't do that."

"Do what?" I bristle indignantly as I slam the safe's door closed with one hand.

An ear-splitting alarm shrieks to life.

"That," he clarifies blandly.

"Shit!" I gasp, grabbing for my stuff and haphazardly throwing them into the clutch as I scan the bathroom for possible exit points.

But my off-the-cuff plan of jumping out of the second storey window is quickly dashed as the door of the master suite bursts open to disgorge the two security guards from downstairs into the room with guns drawn.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight as the guards start shouting. "Shit..."

"T'enquites pas!" comes the sudden voice of guy from behind me.

Glancing up in surprise, I see that he's pushed himself up to his full height and is gesturing at the guards to lower their weapons.

"Mr Dallas!" cries the Duke of Ramsford, bursting into the room as well. "What in blazes is going on here?" Turning to the guards, he adds, "You twits! That is Mr Dallas — our external security consultant! Apologise at once!"

"No need for that, Lord Beaumont," smiles Dallas, flapping my keycard decoder discreetly behind his back as the alarm is finally turned off. "They're just doing their jobs."

I snatch it out of his hand and stow it in my bag, throwing the satin gloves after it.

"Now, Miss Gale, my associate—"

My eyes widen at the sound of my real name as I flip my clutch closed. How did he—?

"—has your necklace in a very safe place," continues Dallas conversationally, stepping out of the bath. "But obviously, we both feel that the alarm should've gone off a bit sooner. Isn't that right, Miss Gale?"

I quickly paste a demure smile onto my face as I turn around. "Yes. Agreed. Much sooner."

Dallas — if that is even his real name — holds his hand out to help me navigate my exit from the tub in my heels while continuing his disquisition. "Now, given the circumstances, our recommendation would be to reset the sensors to respond to a lighter load. How d'you feel about sixty kilos, Miss Gale?

I shake myself out of my stupor to do some quick mental conversion, before beaming, "Perfect!"

Name? That’s one thing. My exact weight? That’s a whole 'nother league... Because no way had that been a simple guess.

But right now is not the time to ponder whether he's managed to get his hands on my Social Security number as well. Because we’re still very much in deep water.

"Shall we?" asks Dallas graciously, his face a mask of innocence as he holds his hand out in front of me.

"Let's!" I nod eagerly, stepping towards the door, my head still spinning from the sudden whirlwind of events...

...but I feel myself get pulled backwards.

"Erm, Miss Gale..." murmurs Dallas, his dark brows quirking upwards questioningly. "Aren't you... forgetting something?"

I frown in confusion. "Umm... don't think so..."

He fixes me with a level look.

My frown deepens. He’s not serious... Is he?

He stares me down uncompromisingly.

I let out a huff of annoyance.

"My lady!" cries the Duke, clearly scandalised as I reach down between my breasts. "What are you trying to do! Rob me?!"

"The thought had crossed my mind..." I reply with a tight smile, pulling the necklace out and handing it back to its owner.

"Yes, well, thank you for your..." The nobleman gulps visibly as he takes the strand of warmed metal from my hand. "...sincere efforts, Miss—"

But I've already stomped out of the room.

Flying down the grand staircase, I push my way through the — now very much more rowdy — crowd and out of the front doors of the manor, intent on putting as much distance between me and Dallas as I can so I didn't end up murdering him in full view of all of Cordonian high-society.

Un-fucking-bel—

"Harper!"

"You've got to be kidding me..." I grit as I continue my aggravated jog down the carpeted steps, pulling the token out for my car as I went.

"Harper! Wait up!" Dallas hollers again, managing to catch me by the arm just as I hit the last step.

"Fuck off," I snap, wrenching my arm out of his grasp.

He snaps a hold on my wrist to whirl me back around. "Look, just hear me out, will ya?"

"Why should I?" I hiss into his face. "Had it not been for your last minute growth of a conscience, I could've walked out of there with that necklace and that duke would've been none the wiser!"

"At least you walked..."

"Ha! Funny!" I hit back sarcastically, giving him an unmitigated shove to extricating myself from his grasp again. "Only I'm not laughing because your fucking chivalry just cost me a year's worth of work!"

"I needed to see how good you were," he replies evenly.

"Oh, really?" I scoff over my shoulder as I veritably throw the token at the nearby valet manager. “And why is that?"

"I find myself in need of someone of your unique skill-set."

I stare at him incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Yeah. In your dreams, bud! I work alone. And even if I didn't, I would never team up with someone I didn't know, much less—"

"You wanna know me?" he interjects, suddenly up in my space again. "Fine. My name's Drake. Drake Walker and—"

"Let me guess..." I gripe, folding my arms as my Mercedes pulls up. "You're not really the Beaumonts' external security consultant."

"Nope," he confirms, reaching out to grab the driver's side door as the valet gets out. "But, then you're not really Lady Riley Brooks, so I guess we're even on that front..."

I roll my eyes at him.

"...and if we're being honest, I should probably come clean about one more thing."

My eyes widen as he holds up a small fob.

"I triggered the alarm," he admits, pressing the button and causing the manor behind us light up with the wail of the claxton again.

I stare up at him, utterly speechless.

He shrugs down at me apathetically. "Sorry."

I manage to recollect myself enough to throw an ice cold glare at him as I get into the car. "For future reference, I don't do early mornings, date, or put up with two-faced bastards who get a kick out of screwing me over. So, you can take your job offer and shove it, Walker."

Grabbing the door, I slam it closed — getting more than a bit of perverse satisfaction out of the fact that the suddenness of the movement manages to pull him off balance — before kicking the throttle down and leaving him in a cloud of exhaust in my rear view.

Fucking asshole.

The story continues in Part 2 - Hard Drive

Bonus: Artwork

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Picture credits:

Drake - Necklace - Bathtub - Harper

[a-s-levynn]

.

This mess is the absolute abysmal of a setup i have right now so yeah, we gonna need to stick to Tiny Token during the holidays but even with that i need to ask you to be lenient.. I cannot even begin how much i had to overexpose this picture for stuff to be visible on it. Whyyyy is this room so dark ?! 😭

Yes that usb light is the only substitute i found here for a desklamp. It hardly gives off any light, but it's there as moral support i guess.

[actionplatformer]

CDs are great don’t get me wrong, use them, collect them, it’s all good. I say this as someone who has collected 100s of CDs. They are my favourite mass-produced format. But they are not necessary for archival purposes, and they’re certainly not necessary for stopping The Man taking your tunes off you. Locally stored digital music libraries do the trick just the same. It would take an immense audio library to not fit on a single modern hard drive, and archives on redundant hard drives may take your drive count up to maybe 3. If you have files free of DRM, a couple of well maintained redundant backups like this would be a safer future-proof solution than a burnt CD, which will eventually succumb to damage, and is fundamentally less sturdy than a mass produced one due to the techniques used to store the data (I.e.: data stamped onto metallic foil vs. data stored by exposing an ink layer to a burning laser). With pure digital storage, libraries and their backups can be created and duplicated with very little effort, even just with a few clicks. All CDs take more effort to replace than the duplication of a healthy hard drive, and if you have a DRM free file on that drive no company can take it off you without physically coming to your home and taking the drive out of your hands or compelling you with the law for some reason. That is the same protection afforded to physically bound media.

A downside to CDs is that if you already have a high quality audio file, one that is PCM encoded at greater than 44.1kHz sampling rate and greater than 16-bit, the audio CD standard requires a sacrifice in quality (yes there are other standards, but they demand equipment other than your typical living room Hi-Fi, car CD player or computer disc drive). By the same token, if you have an inferior file like a 128kbps MP3, and you intend to burn it in a format that all CD players can read, that required conversion to PCM just adds bloat to the files for no good reason. The data lost from the initial MP3 conversion never comes back. If you have MP3s only, you can make an MP3-CD but they aren’t always compatible with every player, and if your player has a USB port, there are no immediate quality or ease of use benefits over a cheap USB stick. The best time to use a CD is when you’ve bought one mass manufactured, and when the audio is already 44.1k/16-bit, no greater, no less.

[flojocabron]

08/23/23: Wednesday fleamarket finds. Came across some good stuff today, I had to leave the place and pull out some more money from a grocery store nearby. First thing bought was for $5.00, two Blurays and a Godzilla dvd. The next stall caught my attention with something cool. A ps4 VR set! At first, the guy wanted $50 for it. And I wasn't sure if it had everything. So, I posted on social media whether it was complete and worth it. Most everyone replied yes, and a pic someone sent me showed me a parts list. It was missing the AC adapter. So when I went back and told the guy it's missing its plug, he lowered it to $40. Next seller had more movies. Four Disney blurays and three dvds for $15. I then found more games and movies from another seller. I spent $25 here, getting: one James Bond dvd set, three dvds, three ps3 games, one ps1, ps2 and 360 game, Red Dead Redemption 2 steelbook Xbone and some extra memory cards and ps3 mini USB cable. Also included was something quite interesting. A Wendy's restaurant Mario Gameboy Advance themed mini board game. This thing must be over 20 years old by now. It's sadly crushed a bit and missing a few paper tokens in it. But it's interesting nonetheless. As I kept looking, my eyes caught something retro. I thought I got lucky again and found a classic 80s toy. But the thing was too clean to look like something from over 30+ years ago. It was a Teddy Ruxpin bear from a few years back, not the OG. It didn't have the built-in cassette player of the original, but a spot for a mini cartridge. But the dollar I got it for was quite worth it. After this, I found more ps3 accessories. A ps3 controller for $5.00 and another move controller for $3.00. I also found more Stranger Things season one sets from the same lady I bought a few weeks ago. And still a dollar. Finally, the last thing I bought was a wii console for $10.

[raitrolling]

i think its rly cute how obtaining duplicate copies of operators in arknights is characterised by them giving you a token thats meant to be a gift, so Of Course im thinking of what my own ocs’ tokens would be

katrin: a handful of trinkets stolen from other people’s pockets and bags. it seems katrin did not know what she was supposed to give you, and lacked the means to give something nice.

nancor: an old scrapbook. each page contains newspaper clippings of the obituaries section from years past, but more recently pressed flowers have been stuck on top to symbolise the beauty of life and death. 

dismas: a mysterious USB drive. within it contains all the information he could find to ruin the life of your greatest enemy. 

eichio: a bouquet of yellow roses. eichio says that he’s heard that they symbolise friendship.

callan: a poorly-drawn self portrait. callan’s signature takes up a large amount of one corner, so you can remember who gave this to you.

ashell: a personal first-aid kit. it is filled to the brim with everything one might need to face any danger in their daily life, and ashell has included a card with his contact number in case of emergencies.

celise: a lavender-scented heat bag in the shape of a frog. it can keep you warm and relieve your stress during a long night of writing.

mikiel: a pair of ice skates. he remembered you once mentioned that you would like to try skating one day, and now you understand why he asked for your shoe size recently.

lusien: a mug handmade out of clay. it has been glazed well to ensure that it is safe to drink out of, and to make the starry sky painting on the outside shine in the right lighting.

sharle: a motorcycle helmet and leather jacket. if you ever want to ride on the back of his bike, he would like you to be safe.

viltau: an expensive pair of silk gloves with a matching tie. viltau then invited you out so you have an excuse to wear them.

glasya: a bag of handmade candies, flavoured to your liking. glasya chose a number of candy moulds to match both yours and their aesthetic tastes.

vallis: a squishy toy cephalopod. it has stretchy tentacles and can stick to surfaces if you smush it hard enough, and matches a toy from his own collection.

linnae: a shiny holofoil trading card. this one is really pretty and really rare, so please don’t lose it!

fleure: a tyrian-coloured scarf. there is magic woven within the threads of the garment, and wearing it makes you feel as calm as a still lake. 

[anminhluatt]

Cài đặt chữ ký số I-CA | Cài đặt USB Token ICA trên máy tính (2024)

[dscsky]

https://www.esolutions.net.in/digital-signature-token

Buy Digital Signature Token Online at best prices.

[viettelhcmccom]

Hướng dẫn cách gia hạn chữ ký số Viettel mới nhất 2024

Gia hạn chữ ký số (Usb Token) là cập nhật thêm thời hạn chữ ký số giúp cho việc nộp tờ khai thuế, nộp thuế điện tử, giao dịch điện tử, khai hải quan không bị gián đoạn. Tuy nhiên để cho hiểu: “Gia hạn chữ ký số là việc rất cần thiết để kéo dài thêm thời gian sử dụng chữ ký điện tử cho việc tham gia các giao dịch ký số điện tử”. https://viettelnet.vn/huong-dan-gia-han-chu-ky-so/

[saptaxhub]

How to Use a Digital Signature Certificate for GST Filing

Digital Signature Certificates (DSCs) are essential for businesses to comply with GST regulations in India. At Saptax Hub, we guide businesses in Delhi on how to effectively use a DSC for GST filing, ensuring smooth and compliant tax submissions.

Understanding the Role of DSC in GST Filing

A Digital Signature Certificate is used to authenticate and secure electronic documents submitted to the GST portal. It verifies the identity of the taxpayer and ensures that the documents have not been altered after submission.

Steps to Use a DSC for GST Filing

Obtain a DSC: First, you need to obtain a Digital Signature Certificate from an authorized Certifying Authority. Saptax Hub offers DSC services in Delhi, ensuring you receive a certificate suitable for GST filing.

Register DSC with GST Portal: Log in to the GST portal and go to the ‘Profile’ section. Under the ‘Manage DSC’ option, you need to upload your DSC. Follow the instructions provided to register your DSC with your GST profile.

Prepare Your GST Returns: Use your accounting software or GST return filing software to prepare your GST returns. Ensure that all details are accurate and complete before proceeding.

Sign and Submit Returns: Once your GST returns are ready, you need to sign them using your DSC. Connect the USB token containing your DSC to your computer, and follow the prompts to digitally sign the document.

Submit Returns: After signing, submit your returns on the GST portal. The system will validate the DSC and accept the submission if everything is in order.

Download Acknowledgment: After submission, download the acknowledgment receipt from the GST portal for your records. This receipt confirms that your GST returns have been successfully filed.

Benefits of Using DSC for GST Filing

Enhanced Security: DSCs provide a secure method of signing and submitting GST returns, ensuring the authenticity and integrity of your filings.

Legal Validity: Digital signatures are legally recognized, making your electronic submissions as valid as physical documents.

Compliance: Using a DSC ensures compliance with GST regulations, avoiding penalties and legal issues.

Efficiency: DSCs streamline the filing process, reducing paperwork and processing time.

Saptax Hub’s Role

At Saptax Hub, we offer comprehensive support for using Digital Signature Certificates for GST filing in Delhi. Our services include assisting with DSC registration, guiding you through the filing process, and ensuring that your submissions are compliant with GST regulations.

Conclusion

Using a Digital Signature Certificate for GST filing is crucial for ensuring secure and compliant tax submissions. With Saptax Hub’s expertise, businesses in Delhi can navigate the GST filing process efficiently and confidently, leveraging the benefits of DSCs to meet their regulatory obligations.