#:)) also hacking weapons ? hacking weapons

[mangocurist]

why is wemmbu infecting my minecraft world

[piromina]

thinking about the start of episode three again. that long screen recording you get of zoey's phone, the one where she calls lily and texts kevin and talks to the host (who turns out to be Valeria). there's more, though. the point of that recording was not just to establish that Valeria is the host (or, at least, a host — we don't know if there's just one person or more) of Vault8.

there was also that bit with Kevin. you know, when he made that app. there's something to be said about that, I think. it established that Kevin also has a way with computers. now, obviously, he's not excellent. at least, not as good as lily (or crossbar, or max). but he can code. it was actually impressive.

and I'm saying this to bring up the point: Zoey cannot code. or at least, she's not as good with it. she's not a computer person, which is why she had to call lily. so we know, then, that anybody trying to contact us who has a way with coding and hacking cannot be Zoey herself. before, we thought it could be lily. actually, that whole thing sparked the lily-is-crossbar theories (supported even more in episode three, with crossbar confirmed to be a girl and not liking the term "hack". the voice actors are different, though — so maybe either crossbar is lily, or knows lily, somehow, or is just a random person online. doubting that, though). this brings Kevin into the picture, because we know he does in fact have the ability to code. it's just something to consider. of course, right now he's ... well. out of the picture. but maybe before the disappearance, something happened. Kevin did create that app.

out of all the apps he could have made for that "project". a texting app. and private. and just for him and zoey.

theory, or at least something that needs to happen: we must get access to that wannabe-whatsapp. obviously the texts we have right now, on the regular texting app on zoey's phone, are not all that she was talking about with Kevin. we need the rest of their texts.

[bluejaybytes]

IT IS DONE. I 100%'D SIDE ORDER IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY. Cleared the tower with all palettes, bought all hacks, bought all items from Cipher, got the Low Hacks Eight badge, got all Jelleton entries, and got all chips entries as well as maxing out the chips that max out at ten and NOT five. My fastest clear is 17 minutes with DJ Octavio's palette, and highest score is Marina's palette with 83k points. My favorite palette and palette with the most clears is Frye's palette with 6 clears, and my least favorite palette is Big Man's palette with only a single clear, tied with Eight and Murch's palette for the spot of least clears, and my first clear was with Sheldon's palette.

Genuinely I could not be happier with Side Order. The only critiques I have are minor and not hugely impactful on how I feel about the DLC as a whole. Easily worth the money and despite the fact I've now done every conceivable thing the game has to offer in terms of completion, I absolutely expect to continue playing and having fun with it for a while further

[mechahero]

MORALITY CHALLENGE!

bold all the things your muse has done, will/would do is in italics, bolded italics means they've done it and will probably do it again.

murder / manslaughter / assault / robbery / breaking & entering / theft / embezzlement / money-laundering / kidnapping / torture / blackmail / arson / trespassing / treason / libel or slander / obstruction of justice / lying to law enforcement / creation of a weapon / espionage / riot / escape from lawful custody / contempt of court / public intoxication / conspiracy / accessory to a crime / harboring a fugitive / bribery / perjury under oath / resisting arrest / identity theft / corporate fraud / tax fraud / document forgery / destruction of evidence / assassination / counterfeiting / sale of a controlled substance / purchase of a controlled substance / failure to pay child support / hacking crimes / threat / pick-pocketing / shoplifting

Tagged by: @earthforsaken (ty!!)

Tagging: YOU

[sunnyisinsane]

Spirit actually loves Stein as much as Stein loves Spirit .

[luvsavos]

the smoke bomb thing against fatalis will forever be fucking hilarious to me. who would win, God or smoke bomb

[sepheroth]

when i think about it i find it hilarious that sephiroth in mass effect verse is much more willing to attend parties/clubs than he would be within his own world on his canon ground. on his canon ground, he grumbles, complains and only goes really goes because of obligations, his friends and food because it's like 5 star, top quality good and it comes rare for him so he's not passing that up. other than that, he doesn't want to be there.

[darkstarcore]

Yaaaay I finished Side Order (sorta, still want to 1000% it by getting every single color chip maxed and whatnot)!!! Very fun experience

[Spoilers in tags]

[controllervm]

finished my first no upgrades run :]

[theood]

Tannis can you send your weird thing out of the room?

What? D0G? No he's perfectly fine. He's in a powered down state right now anyway. In no way is he going to hinder or stop our conversation. Besides, he's holding half of my equipment right now since the Vault Hunter has decided to take up residency in the medical bay

Not fixing this sketch up you're gonna look at it as is

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

Ok so Amity gets lots of its funding by hosting a summer camp every year. They host it by the lake in the woods and the local high schools are counselors and head of cabins.

The camp is like a 150 year tradition and it got very popular especially among the rich from around the country.

They kept it going, closing down for 3 summers because of the ghost attacks (the town could have the attacks and the camp running. It would be too dangerous)

They opened it the next year, but with a lot more liability paperwork and that stuff.

This is also the year where Damian Wayne gets sent to the camp.

Bruce went, Dick went, Jason went, Tim went and even Cass went for a year and now it was his turn.

Damian did not want to go. There are no phones allowed, so he won’t be able to communicate with his family. He went anyway. Danny is his head of cabin.

All the senior class members are liminal. With the weird traits and all that shit. They know Danny is phantom but they don’t really talk about it

Shenanigans:

- Danny noticing the faint liminal scent on Damian and kind takes him under his wing to hopefully have Damian feed off of his ecto and get healthier. Damian thinks his head of cabin just gets really attached really easily.

- Sam running the gardens and using her undergrowth powers. Damian think she’s related to Posion Ivy, but evidently does not care when he find out she a vegan and just as passionate about the environment and animals as he is

- Tucker teaches the campers a coding class. 30 fourteen year olds hacking into places they should not hack into. Surprisingly, under Tuckers guidance, they all manage to successfully hack into the Pentagon without detection. Damian glanced at Tucker’s screen and saw that he was not hacking along with them but hacking an organization called the GIW

-Val and Danny teach hand to hand combat and weapons. After the camper learn to use all the weapons, Val and Danny assign one o them (crossbow, knife, bow and arrow, laser gun). Damian is great at all of them, and they let him pick whichever weapon he wants.

- Damian offhandedly mentions that a katana is his preferably weapon. The next week, Danny’s younger sister comes back from her travels with a katana for him.

- dash and kwan run the camp wide games. They have capture the flag and dodgeball (but they changed it to bow and arrow dodgeball to secretly help with the kids aim), but now they added a little tournament.

- each camper uses their weapon and are pitted against each other until there is one winner. Unsurprisingly, it’s Damian.

- the GIW crashes the camp in the middle of the night after getting a really strong ecto signal (Damian, plus Danny, plus the other liminal counselors). The counselors were at a separate location having a meeting or some other shit that doesn’t involve the campers.

-with Damian leading, the campers manage to fend them off. He and the other campers notice that they seemed to be targeting Damian.

-the counselors get back in time to help them.

-Damian doesn’t mention any of this to his family, and neither do the other campers. They all want to come back next year.

BONUS

Damian send weekly letters about what he’s doing at camp but in simple terms so that the Wayne’s think that camp just expanded their activities and Damian’s having fun

BONUS BONUS

Damian, after feeding off of Danny’s ecto for 2 months becomes visibly liminal. He grows a foot and a half taller, gets fangs, can hold his breath for longer, is quieter, eyes start glowing.

The Waynes are slightly suspicious, but they’ve all went to the camp and came back fine, so maybe he just had a growth spurt.

Maybe months later Constantine comes to the Watchtower and ask Damian how long he’s been dead. Damian answers.

“4 months, magician.”

The Waynes are now freaking out because they had no idea Damian died during summer camp.

Cue the rabbit hole into Amity Park, Phantom, Danny, and the GIW

[rosemaryhoney27]

Dead End Diner

Inspired by this post

Link

The neon sign above the little corner diner buzzed faintly, its flickering letters spelling out The Dead End. Rain drizzled from the Gotham sky, casting reflections of sickly green and crimson across the slick asphalt. Crime, chaos, and capes ruled the night—but inside the warm diner, a world of sizzling grills, greasy coffee, and ghost-proof walls thrived in peace.

Danny Fenton wiped down the countertop, ghost core humming gently with contentment.

Leaving Amity Park had been easy once his parents screamed the word “monster.” The lab accident that gave him ghost powers had changed everything, and not everyone could handle the truth. Especially Jack and Maddie Fenton.

Vlad Masters hadn’t taken rejection well either. Maddie still wanted nothing to do with him—half ghost or not. In a final, dramatic end, Vlad destroyed his ghost half and drank himself into the grave. The only note he left behind was a signed will, bequeathing everything to Daniel Fenton.

So now Danny was wealthy.

And utterly, devastatingly bored.

Money didn’t thrill him. Mansions made him feel lonely. Charity galas were stiff and full of liars. So he’d packed up and moved to the most chaotic, unpredictable, high-stakes city he could think of: Gotham.

He bought a crumbling building right in the Narrows, cleaned it out, reinforced it with ghost tech and some stolen WayneTech from Vlad’s stash, and opened a 24/7 diner.

He called it The Dead End.

It was a hit almost instantly. Not because of the food, though it was great (Danny had a mean hand with greasy spoons), but because of the way he ran it.

“Pay if you can, eat if you’re hungry, and don’t be a jerk.”

Word spread. The homeless knew they’d get warm soup and hot fries. Night-shift nurses sat next to henchmen on break. Cops blinked awkwardly at villains scarfing pancakes. No fights, no weapons, no questions. If a rogue battle broke out outside, people flooded in for shelter. Danny never locked the doors.

He sat behind the counter and watched the madness through the windows, eating his waffles in peace. If he had to step out and go invisible to redirect a missile away from his roof, well, that was his business.

Gotham’s vigilantes didn’t see it that way.

Nightwing was the first to break in.

Danny caught him perched on the rafters like an oversized, very broody bat.

“You want eggs or pancakes?” Danny asked, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

“…I’m not here to eat.”

“Then you broke into my diner for nothing? That’s kinda rude.” Danny gestured to the stools. “Sit. I’m not feeding a potential burglar unless he’s sitting.”

Grumbling, Nightwing slid down and took a seat.

A week later, Red Hood tripped the back alarm. He got a grilled cheese shoved into his hands before he could say a word.

Tim Drake hacked the registers. Danny dumped a milkshake in his lap and gave him a free slice of pie “as an apology.”

Spoiler got caught trying to blend in by wearing a hoodie. She got extra whipped cream and a “next time just ask for a table.”

They kept coming. Not even Batman himself was immune. One evening, the lights flickered and dimmed as a familiar voice echoed behind him.

“You’re not what you seem.”

Danny, utterly unbothered, slid a coffee mug across the counter.

“And you look like you need caffeine and a therapist.”

The cowl’s frown deepened. “How is your building still standing after Joker launched a rocket at this block?”

“I reinforced it,” Danny said, sipping his soda. “Ghost-proof, explosion-dampening, and built with spite. That helps.”

“You let known criminals hide here.”

“I let everyone hide here. I’m not a cop, Bats. I’m a fry cook.”

“You’re not just a fry cook.”

Danny’s eyes shimmered green.

“No,” he said. “I’m also a ghost. Now sit your haunted butt down and let me feed you before you faint from low blood sugar.”

Eventually, the Bats gave up trying to prove he was a villain.

Instead, they started… showing up.

Red Robin brought his laptop and camped at a booth during patrol. He claimed it was “recon,” but Danny always brought him extra hash browns.

Red Hood “accidentally” forgot his helmet once and got his favorite booth permanently labeled “Angry Soup Guy.”

Nightwing flirted with the waitress, annoyed Danny to no end, and somehow ended up helping wash dishes on busy nights.

Even Batman… tolerated the place. He’d never admit it, but he once grunted “thanks” after Danny saved Batgirl from getting crushed by falling debris—without revealing her identity or asking questions.

The Rogues started calling Danny “Ghost Chef.”

The vigilantes? “Spook Fry.”

He’d been called worse.

One night, just before closing, Danny flipped the sign to CLOSED and leaned against the window. Outside, Scarecrow and Batwoman were having a rooftop showdown. The sky was full of smoke and red light. He yawned.

Behind him, Damian Wayne sat sipping a very serious cup of cocoa and glared at the sugar skull art on the wall.

“You’re suspicious,” Damian said. “You let Joker’s goons eat here last week.”

“They paid in stolen casino chips. I took it. Better than nothing.”

“You don’t fear us.”

“I don’t fear much.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

Danny winked. “Aren’t we all?”

The Dead End became legend.

A safe zone. A neutral ground. A place where Penguin’s thugs might sit next to Batgirl and silently agree not to wreck the place.

Danny never asked questions, and he always served the best damn pancakes in Gotham.

He’d been disowned. Betrayed. Abandoned. But in Gotham, the city of masks and monsters, he found peace in chaos, purpose in pancakes, and power in doing what no one else dared: building something kind in a world built on fear.

And honestly?

That was way more fun than being rich.

[violent138]

Owing to the Batfam's do it, or die trying attitude, they seem ridiculously competent to outsiders because their response to orders like hack the Pentagon/ learn to new an entirely new weapon/ learn a language to decent fluency during the refuelling layover? Easy.

But this also leads to stressful situations like:

Dick, waking up in the middle of the night and already reaching for his suit: "Who's dead?"

Tim: "You need to help me crack a mathematical problem."

Dick, groaning and flopping back onto his pillow: "Tim, buddy, I love you, but I am not helping with your homework at--"

Tim: "No! This is for a case. It's essential and I said I could do it."

Dick: "You did what?"

Tim: "I know, but it's been hours, Dick. So, less talking. It was proposed over a century ago and has sixteen incomplete possible answers. We can use those right?"

Dick: "Sure. Oh yeah, Tim. Mathematicians that spent their whole lives on it failed, but it's genuinely touching how much you believe that my illustrious past as a mathlete--"

Tim: "Dick."

Dick, sighing: "Let me grab a pencil." *moves furniture away to free up a wall* "Okay send it to me."

[flwrkid14]

Tim Works Hard So He Can Nap Harder

The thing about Tim is that he gets things done.

Not in a normal, reasonable, “wow, he’s really productive” way. No, Tim operates on an entirely different plane of efficiency—one that defies common sense and possibly the laws of physics.

Give him a five-hour task? He’ll finish it in two. Tell him something is impossible? He’ll stare at you, offended, before proving you so wrong it physically hurts.

Sometimes, it’s out of sheer spite. Bruce once told him a mission was too complicated for him to handle alone, so Tim completed it in record time out of pettiness alone. Jason told Tim he didn’t have the skill set for corporate espionage. So Tim hacked three shell companies overnight, uncovered Black Mask’s entire financial network, and sent Jason a PowerPoint presentation with the subject line: “Skill Set Acquired”.

Other times, it’s about time management. Tim understands, at his very core, that the faster he works, the sooner he can stop working. If he has to burn through a mountain of reports in a single hour so he can take a nap, then so be it. If he has to analyze data at inhuman speeds so he can binge-watch a show later, then he will.

The bats have learned to just… let it happen.

Dick once made the mistake of asking Tim to help him streamline his schedule. Tim, in under an hour, not only optimized his entire calendar but also accounted for every possible emergency, scheduled backup time slots for rescheduling, and somehow made Dick twice as productive without making him feel busier. It was kinda terrifying.

Barbara asked him to double-check some intel. He cross-referenced it against every available database, found three hidden links no one had noticed, and sent her a color-coded report with visual aids.

Bruce told him to track a smuggling ring in Gotham. Tim mapped out their entire operation in one night, had arrests lined up by morning, and then went home to sleep like a corpse.

Steph once sarcastically asked if Tim could figure out how to clean up the Gotham underworld in a week. Tim pulled out a ten-step plan before she even finished her sentence.

Tim doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t believe in half-measures. He works fast, works well, and then disappears before anyone can ask him for more.

The only thing scarier than Tim’s efficiency is the fact that he actively chooses to use it selectively.

Because while Tim is capable of working like a one-man army, when it benefits him, he’s also capable of weaponized uselessness. If he doesn’t want to do something, suddenly he’s the most inefficient person alive.

He’ll take weeks to answer a text. He’ll forget how to do basic tasks. He’ll act so completely incapable of anything that people just stop asking him for things.

But when he wants something done?

It’s over before you even realize he started.

[etlu-yume]

Yesss the deadlines thing is so good. (I used to use it as a "just do as many dishes as you can while the kettle boils" and it made life soooo much easier. So much.)

Also sometimes it's little loop holes. Like if I've set a timer on my phone or my watch and I'm in my room, I can just be like "oh I'll do that in a moment" and suddenly 4 hours later it hasn't been done.

So instead I might set a timer on the oven - that way I *HAVE* to get up to go turn it off (because it's loud and irritating), and well look at that I'm halfway to the task anyway so I may as well go do it now before I forget.

A fun way to get yourself to do chores when you have adhd is to simulate a sense of panic by setting horrible deadlines that fit into other things that you’re doing.

For example, you set up a kettle of water to boil for your tea. Quick! Wipe down the whole counter before it’s done boiling, for the love of god you’re running out of time! Wipe it down! The water is almost boiling.

The water is boiling and your counter is clean. Now set your timer for your tea for three minutes and of my god there’s cups in your room! Quick! Get all the cups from everywhere in the house! Run! You’ve only got three minutes! Get all the dishes into the kitchen!

Oh would you look at that. You got all the dishes in the sink and now your tea is ready. Nice. Now you can chill with your tea.

I’ve found that little stuff like that helps me. Forcing myself into unexpected last minute deadlines. It fills up empty space and my house is a little bit cleaner.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

idea for joaquin:

i see alot of sushine x grumpy reader when ppl r writing joaquin fics but pls i need more sunshine x sunshine and its joaquin and reader being literal comedic geniuses on missions and flirting over comms 😫

"Ray Of Sunshine"

[Joaquin Torres x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: You and Joaquin are pains in Sam and Bucky's ass.

Warnings: Mild action violence, relentless flirting, and Sam Wilson contemplating a career change

Word Count: 831 words

A/N: I think we can all agree that bucky and sam are officially parents.

"We should get a team dog," you said, thinking out loud.

Three voices answered you at once through the comms. Two were a chorus of "NO!" The other, "YES!" You decided to focus on the latter.

"A small golden one…" you continued, ducking behind a concrete pillar as gunfire sprayed the warehouse wall behind you.

"We could name it Ray," Joaquin suggested. You could hear his grin.

"Ooh, like a Ray of sunshine!"

Sam's groan was so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of Bucky vaulting over a shipping container to your left. "Focus, both of you," Sam barked, his wings slicing through the air as he disarmed a guard. "We're in the middle of a mission!"

"And we are not getting a dog," Bucky added, firing at a henchman sprinting toward you.

"But imagine the morale boost!" you argued, popping up to toss a smoke grenade. The room flooded with gray haze, and you darted toward the server room, Joaquin's laughter in your ear.

"Picture it, Buck—little Ray, tiny vest, teeny goggles," Joaquin said. You could practically see him miming the dog's outfit with his hands, even though he was three rooms away, hacking into the security system. "He'd be the best at fetch. And espionage."

"Espionage?!" Bucky snapped. A grunt, a thud—probably him body-slamming someone into a wall. "It's a dog."

"Exactly! No one suspects the dog!" you chirped, sliding into the server room and slamming the door shut. "Quin, how's that hack coming?"

"Already in," Joaquin said, smug. "You're welcome."

"Show-off."

"Admit it, that's why you love me."

Your cheeks warmed.

"Less flirting, more focusing," Sam cut in. The Captain America voice dialled up to 'I'm two seconds from drowning you both in a lake.' "Torres, any alarms?"

"Nope. Smooth as butter. Also, you do love me, right sunshine?" He didn't need to ask, he already knew the answer.

You rolled your eyes, typing rapidly on the server's interface. "Keep dreaming, flyboy."

"Oh, I will. Vividly. With plot."

Bucky made a sound like a feral cat. "I'm begging you two to take this seriously."

"We are!" you and Joaquin said in unison, then burst into laughter.

The two of you had turned into an art form really: you'd crack a joke, he'd retort back, and somewhere between the banter and the bullets, the bad guys ended up in a pile, thoroughly confused about how they'd been beaten by a duo who argued about pizza toppings during a car chase.

"Got the files!" you announced, yanking the hard drive free.

"Great! Now get out before backup shows up," Joaquin said. "Also, duck."

You dropped to the floor just as a guard burst through the door, his weapon whirring over your head. Joaquin's voice turned sharp, all playfulness gone. "Three o'clock. Disarm and go."

You spun, sweeping the guard's legs out from under him and snatching his gun. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Now when do we get this dog?"

"NO DOG!" Sam and Bucky shouted in unison.

The second you spotted the scruffy golden retriever trotting through the lot on the way back to the quinjet, you froze. "Uh. Joaquin. Look."

He looked over to where you were pointing. "Is that…?"

"A literal ray of sunshine," you whispered, clutching your chest. The dog wagged its tail.

"No," Sam hissed.

"Yes," you and Joaquin breathed.

"Not a chance!" Bucky said.

But the dog padded toward you, cocking its head, and dropped a muddy stick at your boots. You gasped. "It's fate."

"Sam. SAM. They're adopting a street dog," Bucky deadpanned. "This is your problem now."

Joaquin scooped the retriever into his arms. "C'mon, Cap! Look at…his eyes. He's got the heart of a soldier!"

"Leave. The. Dog." Sam said.

"Too late!" you said cheerfully. "Ray's one of us now!"

By the time they got back to the quinjet, with the dog, Sam's eye twitch had reached apocalyptic levels. Bucky stared at the retriever, now sitting happily on your lap, and muttered, "If it pees on my gear, I'm shaving it bald."

Joaquin bounded down the jet's ramp, helmet off and hair adorably windblown. "He’s so cute, look at him!"

"He looks like a menace," Sam said, though the corner of his mouth quirked up as the dog lolled its tongue at him.

You scratched Ray's ears, batting your lashes at Sam. "C'mon, Cap. Every team needs a mascot. We'll train him! He can fetch grenades!"

"He'll fetch lawsuits," Bucky grumbled.

Joaquin plopped beside you, shoulder brushing yours. "Admit it. You love him."

Sam looked at the dog. At Bucky. At the two of you, grinning like idiots.

"...He's not getting a rank."

You and Joaquin whooped, high-fiving as Ray barked as if in victory.

"But he is writing the mission report," Bucky added, his amusement showing.

Joaquin leaned toward you, whispering, "Worth it."

"Next step: matching outfits," You whispered back.

His smile could've powered a city. "Already designing them."