#how to hack wifi

[anoant]

Pictochat!

[kamrulislamsakib]

The Evolution of Hacking: From Cyberpunk Fantasy to Real-World Reality

Hacking has been a part of internet culture for as long as there’s been an internet to hack. For some, it’s a rebellious act—tearing down the walls built by corporations or governments. For others, it’s an artform, a way of playing with systems, seeing how far you can push boundaries. But what does hacking really mean today? And why does it still capture our imagination?

Historically, hacking has been portrayed as a dark art. Think back to movies like The Matrix or Hackers—hackers as antiheroes, taking down the system from the inside. But while these portrayals are often exaggerated, they did reflect a truth: hacking represents a desire to reclaim power and control. In a world where tech companies and governments collect personal data and monitor our every move, hacking is one way to level the playing field.

In the real world, hacking has taken on many forms. There’s ethical hacking, where people are hired to test systems for vulnerabilities, and there’s black-hat hacking, which involves illegal activities. But even those who engage in illegal hacking often see themselves as part of a larger rebellion against control and surveillance.

It’s easy to romanticize hacking, to see it as this cool, underground world of rebellious acts and revolutionary potential. But the reality is more complex. Hacking today isn’t just about taking down the man; it’s about finding flaws, building something new, or even just learning how things work beneath the surface. It’s about pushing boundaries, challenging authority, and questioning the systems that run our world.

And perhaps that’s the real reason hacking still resonates with so many people. It’s not just a skill or a rebellion—it’s a form of empowerment. It’s the ability to break free from the constraints placed on us, even if only for a moment.

In a world where everything feels so rigid, so controlled, hacking is the ultimate act of freedom. It’s a reminder that the digital world is malleable, that we can create our own paths through it, and that the rules are often made to be broken.

[transxfiles]

obviously people who go in and record bootleg masters on broadway are ballsy as fuck but i'm even more in awe of the people who hack into the house cameras and conductor cams and such and then share those videos. there's an artistry of sneaking a camera into a professional show and managing to film the whole thing don't get me wrong. gods amongst men. i love bootleg masters they're the best. i think the difference is that i can conceptualize how it's done y'know, there's less mystery. meanwhile. with all the official cameras that BELONG to the theater and stuff im like. Wait. How did you do that.

[marketing-decode]

Wi-Fi Hacking Practical Guide with Commands

Wi-Fi hacking is a topic that frequently comes up in cybersecurity discussions. It is important to clarify that hacking into Wi-Fi networks without permission is illegal and unethical. However, ethical hacking, which involves testing the security of Wi-Fi networks to discover vulnerabilities and improve security, is an essential skill for cybersecurity professionals. In this practical guide,…

[sistertotheknowitall]

Don't Take Snacks From Some Guy

Masterpost

Duke knew better than to take food from strangers. Still it was nice of the other man to offer so he kept taking them.

----

Duke watched the kid type away at his laptop. He said kid but the guy was probably a few years older the him. Still, he wasn't supposed to be on the roof of a bank, Gotham National Bank to be specific. He didn't seem to be up to anything nefarious (Duke didn't think you needed to be on the bank to hack it) but he was still on the roof a bank. A closed bank at sunrise on a Sunday.

How did he even get up there? Duke doubted that he took the stairs. Unless he worked for the bank but that didn't answer why he was on the roof.

Making a decision, Duke disappeared and made his way over. He was quiet and cautious as he went to look over the other teens shoulder. He was writing …a paper? From what Duke could read it was a research paper (‘in accordance to what the Daily Planet has stated about the city’s hero’ -).

“Could you not breathe in my ear?” 

Duke flinched back and thankfully didn't make a sound. He was pretty sure he still invisible but tired eyes were staring at him - well, in his general direction. (Just to be sure Duke checked, and, yeah, still not visible.) For a moment they just sat still as Duke contemplated revealing himself. (The other could be bluffing but was it really bluffing if he was right?) The guy had known Duke was there and seemed able to at least sense his general position. He seemed annoyed but not violent. It was also clear that he definitely was not committing cyber crime unless the paper was code. (Could it be code?)

Continuing with caution Duke made himself visible and shifted awkwardly, “um, hi, I’m Signal -”

The other boy had turned back to his computer, appearing to read over what he had written. “You were almost pressed against me, dude.” 

Duke blushed, a little embarrassed, “right, sorry, I was just trying to see what you were doing.”

“I'm Danny and I was not hacking the bank, I promise.”

“Okay?” 

Duke continued to watch Danny as he finished reading and closed the laptop. Standing Danny stretched and started putting the computer away. Duke had winced at the popping of his spine. “So what are you doing up here?”

Shouldering his bag Danny told him, “writing about the sociological impact of superheroes vs vigilantes, or do you not know how to read?” 

Duke contemplated still arresting the man. He could still get him for loitering or trespassing or something. “No, I got that - “

“Did you?”

Ignoring the snippy remark Duke continued and asked “why are you writing on top of the bank? How did you even get up here?”

“The public library’s wifi is awful and this bank has a public password.” 

Duke blinked, “you're up here at sunrise for the wifi?”

“Yeah.”

"…….."

“So… think you could help me get down?”

----

Once back on solid ground Danny had held out a chocolate bar. Duke stared in confusion before realizing it was an offering, “oh thanks, but -” Danny sighed, grabbed Duke's wrist and forced the candy into his hand. Letting go, Danny had patted the vigilante on the shoulder, muttered his thanks and walked off.

Duke watched him go around the corner before considering the chocolate. While the guy hadn't been anything other than a little snarky and rude, Duke wasn't going to eat something a stranger gave him. Even if you didn't grow up in Gotham, accepting food from strangers was not wise. Duke knew this. 

So he had taken the candy bar back to the cave for analysis. 

Upon their seconf meeting nearly a week later Danny had been a lot more cheerful and had apologized to Duke for being grumpy. He then handed him a banana and left. Duke continued to run into Danny on roof tops, fire escapes, and once outside the entrance to a cemetery and while he wasn’t always in a talkative mood when they met (sometimes he would just walk by Duke, shoving food into his hands as he passed) he was always sure to give him something. Duke didn't know what to make of this but he was understandably careful. The banana had been tested like the chocolate, so had the fruit snacks, the granola bar, and the apple. All came back clean.

 It was a few days after the apple was cleared that the bats had come to the conclusion that Danny was not a threat. So when Duke was handed a donut on a stressful Tuesday, he ate it gratefully. Danny had seemed pleased that Duke continued to take the treats and Steph was always happy to eat what Duke didn’t.

Post 5

[kalims]

⭒ㅤnot gonna lie !

premise. pov prefect opens a ngl, except! the story they shared it from can only be viewed... by one person!

characters. first years

ace

not gonna lie ! smash tbh

unironically pretends that he never sent one when you start bombarding him.

uniquewhere: i didn't even see ur story

shrimp: [attatchment]

uniquewhere: i have no wifi to see that sorry not sorry

vehement denial is actually the most effective defense according to him. even if it bypasses all forms of realism, it's not real if he doesn't believe it to be! <- real life advice from ace trappola guys.

if you haven’t already guessed, he can indeed see the picture you just sent and just assumes his very first form of defense… no amount of proof will remove him from his little ball of: “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you gotta prepare some kind of miscrosoft presentation, and sit him down. though he will 100% do that thing where he plugs his ears in with his fingers pretending he doesn’t hear anything even though it doesn’t block out you reading out the words.

“here is the real, actual screenshot of my replies—”

“I NEVER EVEN SAW YOUR STORY.”

“ah, good! next slide after this is the views of the story!”

deuce

not gonna lie ! i like you

very demure, very straight to the point is deuce.

he would've written some long ass paragraph in all honesty but he just can't because he sees what he writes, deletes it, then cringes to himself.

atleast with that one he has the excuse for whichever scenario that might randomly ask about it.. (yes, he's thinking that far) weird flex but ok

1. "you ever confessed to your crush?" someone asking

2. "yeah sorta....." deuce

3. "???" someone confused

he was feeling reaaallyyy proud of himself. the anxiousness finally settles down, alongside with his rapidly beating heart. even if it isn't a real, confession it still brings him a bit of peace.

shrimp: I know what you did

tokyodefenders: WHAT?

there goes his heart rate.

like, you did not offer context to any of that but he's still gonna think you somehow, actually do know even if you didn't provide an explanation to... whatever it is you know about him!

tokyodefenders: whaTEVER IT IS IS NKT TRUE

shrimp: please, ur breaking my heart

shrimp: I like u too :(

heart? ascended

he's not even gonna question it. all his braincells got dumped out, and all he can focus on is that particular message. he isn't even gonna remember backtracking about the ngl cause he's gonna be like:

how did they hack my keyboard.. are they tracking it?! LOL

"I'm a mastermind,"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!?!" <- deuce, scared for his life.

jack

not gonna lie ! stop getting into trouble. I'm not always there to pull you out

is concerned with how many times you've managed to unknowingly walk into trouble, jack had been lucky enough (yes, him. not you, cause knowing you, you wouldn't be too phased) to be a near constant presence when the shenanigans during the tournament concluded, he stuck to you then.

as in reluctantly following around you like a tail. narrowing his eyes at the less than friendly faces often wore around you, that you were... well, amazingly oblivious to. or maybe you acted like you didn't know, the carriage didn't pick you up for nothing if you were here in nrc.

shrimp: do u rlly think I'm a troublemaker?

iheldheroncejacob: yes

the random topic being brought up went completely over his head. jack probably had forgotten he'd given the link to your story the time of your day, in all honesty

shrimp: well maybe I keep getting in trouble so u can rush in, and pull me out?

iheldheroncejacob: you're a terrible friend then

shrimp: :(

in retrospect jack is able to keep up with joking around, usually. but it's so hard to take you seriously that he takes whatever you say with a grain of salt, you're almost always tipping between flat sarcasm, or calm nonchalance between your words. it almost always has something to do with the people you're with.

the heartslabyul prefect for example, you take a kind, subtle undertone of teasing to (which is crazy, because you're scarily tame in the presence of the vice-dorm head.) and then you're all stony faced when you're with someone you don't like.

^ and you obviously don't dislike jack, if the little selfish, presumptuous nrc part of him would like to claim confidently so... would you really be joking?

only does jack realize the connection between your text, and the ask he sent when he's just finished his laps.

"I'm not your guard dog! why would you even get in trouble for that, next time I'm not even gonna spare you the time cause—"

"what a pee brain."

"what? don't compare my brain to a tiny pee—"

epel

not gonna lie ! CAN I PLS TRANSFER TO RAMSHACKLE AHHHH

you've never met anyone who's disliked being sorted into whatever the dark mirror fitted their 'soul' into as much as epel.

even without the private story only limited to his response, you're sure you could pick out his message and put a face to it.

epel, in his defense, still has savanaclaw as number one in his heart. though upon asking jack if it was possible to transfer there, the latter confirmed but it was... a tedious process, and suggested asking rook, who literally came from savanaclaw!

the boy only spared his friend a side glance before scurrying away. no use traipsing around that...

but of course, getting away from pomefiore is only a goal! always being near your proximity was a biiiiig bonus!

shrimp: hey I need ur files for the dorm transfer

catchwhathands: [escapeplan.jpg]

catchwhathands: I knew u wanted me in ur dorm!!

shrimp: actually I don't. ur the one that asked ;)

catchwhathands: who cares. I'm finally getting out of this hell YEAHHHH!!

shrimp: who said I was gonna use the files you sent?

okay, admittedly the moment he'd sent over the files, epel shut his phone, and quite literally did a victory lap around his room. making sure to frolic so vil has less chances of hearing his chaos...

the dorm leader woke up so easily from noises that you'd think rook was the reason he developed such a habit.

probably.

epel was already planning the plan! he could see the vision! maybe he could plant around ramshackle since it is a pretty big area. you guys would be together for the remainder of the year—and he'd finally bump the adeuce duo from their pedestal!

*ping*

"AGHHHHH STUPID FRIGGIN'—"

"epel!"

"sorry..."

sebek

not gonna lie ! since it is a request for unbridled honesty, I shall deliver what you've requested. you have done so without much thought, clearly! if you've given such leeway for... criticism! you, human, could use a lot more educating in terms of the glory of our eternal lord, the glorious malleus! in accordance to your previous, description of our relationship. the farthest I can give is acquaintance, but I shall only call you a companion (AKA friend) if you are atleast educated about my interests! as the good companion you desire to be!

woo, alright. he really wrote all that...

oh, uh oh.. you just got another ask from him, maybe even longer..?

shrimp: what would that make silver then

rizzvolt: my brother in arms!

shrimp: but hey, actually I do want to know

rizzvolt: ah! finally! I knew you atleast have some common decency, and sense. for that I shall agree for your request in our friendship! these are the most accurate ones pertaining the great lord malleus' biography! [link] [link] [link]

rizzvolt: is that enough? I will send you more, but only if you finish these three. I will test you rigorously to confirm that you are indeed genuine in your interest!

why he has all that, you have no idea.. if only he displayed that much dedication for his studies...

shrimp: I don't wanna learn about malleus

shrimp: I want to learn about you

rizzley: how dare you! the lord's name should only be addressed with a: 'lord', 'the great', 'the

...

sebek stares at his screen, just in the process of finishing his... educating sentence, because even in text, malleus should only be treated with the highest form of respect!

have you no integrity?! he wonders.

only then does he focus on your response, does he make a rather... dubious sound of shock? sebek doesn't know why he breaks into a cold sweat as he runs the sentence through his mind a hundred times in the span of a minute.

what is this... some sort of human illness? or maybe love—

of course he'd never even consider such a thing! (just did bro)

shrimp: sooo.. since you sent me an ask, does that mean you actually like me?

shrimp: sebeeeeekk.. did you actually read?

with the speed of lightning (and the adrenaline maybe, what else could this frantic pounding of his chest explain besides that you are indeed, dangerous!) he opens the story on your media

'send me an ask if you like meeee :)'

sebek promptly falls over.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

heyy! so this might be so random but i saw something on tiktok that made me think of it. how do you think dad!rafe would react to seeing that creepy shit on baby monitors? like when it looks like the baby’s being pulled or something that looks like a ghost? or it could be totally different and be some stupid kid hacking it and saying shit through its speaker.. i’d write it myself but don’t think i’d do it justice😅

hacked

A/n: IM CRYING THIS IS SO AMSING 😭.

Warnings: mentions of creeps once… that’s it rlly

MASTERLIST

It was an easy night, with your baby girl being surprisingly calm all day, it was like a breeze to put her to sleep in her cradle.

He got underneath the covers with you, you already fast asleep next to him. He had a small smile on his face, going to wrap his arms around you at the same time he glanced at the baby monitor next to you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, his arms stopping mid-air as he heard the baby monitor with concern on his face.

It sounded like a heavy breathing, along with a scratching noise.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled to himself, quickly sitting up in the bed.

“Babe, babe,” he whispered, shaking your resting body in an attempt to wake you up.

“What…?” You groaned out, your eyes still shut as you stretched.

“There’s some weird ass noise coming from the monitor-“

“What?” You sat up quickly, listening along with him. You heard it as well, when you suddenly heard a womans voice whisper incoherent words, along with a boy making some sort of whale… noises? You couldn’t place it.

You and Rafe practically shot up, Rafe grabbing the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, which was really just a glass bottle, before he bolted to the room.

He turned on the light, stepping into the room first, you following behind him.

Your baby was still asleep, thankfully. You and Rafe looked around, practically turning the entire place upside down, making sure that no one or nothing was here.

Rafe checked the windows, still locked. He also checked the alarm system, which was still working perfectly fine, and looked as if nothing had happened.

Still, Rafe had told you to stay in the nursery with her until he could finish checking the entire house. You slumped into the chair, rubbing your eyes and yawning quietly.

You waited for what felt like eternity, Rafe finally coming back into the room. “Nothing.” He spoke, shaking his head.

It finally clicked in your head, you moving over to unplug the baby monitor quickly.

He furrowed his eyebrow at you, before you explained to him.

“I’ve seen videos where this happened and I guess they can get hacked if they’re connected to your WiFi.” You explained, him narrowing his eyebrows.

“Wait- so someone hacked into the WiFi?”

You nodded, glancing at your baby in the crib and the monitor on her stand.

“Does that mean someone could have like- been watching her?” He asked, the mere thought of it enough to make him angry.

“Or us.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s probably just some dumbass teenager playing some prank on us, okay?” You mumbled, putting your hand on his shoulder, “Let’s just… go to sleep, yeah?”

The next morning, the neighbors were knocking at the door, their teenage son and younger daughter standing with guilty looks on their faces.

“Hey, Mr and Mrs Hart, what can we do for you?” Rafe asked with a tired smile on his face, his voice raspy with sleep.

You stood next to him with your baby girl on your hips, giving them both smiles and greeting them.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m afraid we caught our children playing a prank on you last night, and they had something to say.”

“We’re sorry, Mr and Mrs Cameron. It won’t happen again.” They both murmured in unison, you and Rafe looking at them with confusion on your faces.

“Wait… the baby monitor, that was you guys?” You asked.

The boy nodded sheepishly, his hands going to the back of his neck.

“Well, thank you, kids.” Rafe said with a chuckle. “I’m glad you told us. I was one more thing away from calling the police.”

They both looked up at him now, mouths agape.

“We’re so sorry, again, guys. I’ll make sure that they get punished for this.” Their dad spoke, you and Rafe waving goodbye. Rafe shut the door, raising his eyebrows.

“Honestly, I’m relieved it’s them and not some weirdo.” You spoke, him letting out a chuckle, nodding in agreement.

[howi99]

(This will be part of the rewrite of Jaune is a Genius)

Roman: *crawling out of the wreck of an atlesian ship* Good thing Oobleck forced me to attend those piloting lessons back in the days. *Looking around, seeing the entirety of Beacon on fire but the City of Vale is untouched* I guess Jaune had enough time to deactivate the virus.

Neo: *slowly gliding down towards him*

Roman: Ah, Neo! Tell me, on a scale of "mild disappointment" To "I'm going to dismember you, beginning with the nerves in your theet", how angry do you think our genius friend is?

Neo: *goes to use her electrolarynx, the gift Jaune gave her then-*

*entering call from Jaune Arc*

Neo: ... *Point to herself* 🔇🫢🥺

Roman: ... *Roll his eyes* Fine, i'll answer. *Answer* Hel-

Jaune: *cold anger* I'm giving you 3 minutes to explain why you didn't warn me of the attack at least a day before it happens and if i don't like the answer, i will track you down and turn you into one of my "fun fact".

Roman: *gulp*

Neo: 🔥🫠💀?

Jaune: No... I won't need fire to melt your flesh, a basic compound will suffice.

Roman: I-i-

Jaune: *coldly* 2 minutes.

Roman: *sigh* I don't have an excuse. I honestly just wanted to make sure Neo and you survived. You can be mad at me, but honestly i don't care. I'd sacrifice this city in a heartbeat if it means the only peoples i care about are safe.

Jaune: ... *Sigh* You are lucky that i managed to deactivate the bombs and killed-switched the Atlesian Army.

Neo: 🤔🦠💀?

Jaune: How? Should i remind you i had an hour to try hacking the system with a school scroll and free wifi? It was much easier to just cut everything off.

Roman: And what about Cinder?

Jaune: She managed to Kill the headmaster and whoever was in that weird pod i found. But i think she didn't have the time to get whatever she was truly looking for, since half of her plan had been thwarted.

Roman: ... And your girlf-

Jaune: *angrily* Penny is "fine". In pieces, but her hard drive wasn't damaged and neither was her aura reactor. I'll try repairing my friend when i'll have the time.

Roman: Jaune, we all know you are-

Jaune: Do you wish to know what unfinished soap can do to the skin?

Roman: *panicking* Ok BYE! *Hang up*

Neo: ... 🥺

Roman: I'm not calling back, you can text him whenever you want!

(So yeah, Vale isn't destroyed and there's a lot less casualty and grimms. Also, Pyrrha live! *Stomp* *stomp*)

[serumandsteel]

The Shape of Silence | pt 2

part 1

pairing: tfatws bucky x (f) reader

summary: after years off-grid, you’re pulled back into the field by Sam Wilson. a freezing safe house, surveillance feeds and one tense comms line are all that stand between you and the past you’ve been trying to outrun. when John Walker blows the op wide open, you’re forced to step out of the shadows. this isn’t how you pictured seeing Bucky again — and by the look in his eyes, it’s not how he imagined it either.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: cannon level violence, emotional trauma, unresolved tension, swearing, and John Walker, well being himself is enough of a warning on its own.

a/n: I wrote this so quickly, so happy people liked part one & really hope you like this one! appreciate the love - msg me to be added to the tag list for the next chapter xx

You weren’t picky about your accommodations these days — so long as they had four walls, a lock, and zero rats. But this place? This place had the distinct charm of a war criminal’s final hideout. How did Sam even scope out this place. The building looked like it hadn’t seen a tenant since the Cold War. Probably because it hadn’t.

The mattress on the floor to your left looked like it had once hosted either a tragic breakup or a quietly successful murder. The walls were yellowing and cracked, plaster curling away in strips. A TV was bolted crookedly to one corner, eternally stuck on static—though you weren’t convinced it was even plugged in.

Outside, the sky was bruised grey, heavy with snow that hadn’t started falling yet but was definitely coming. The cold was creeping in through the gaps in the window and through the cracks of the wall. Every part of the room felt like it was waiting to collapse.

Across the narrow, cobbled street, the neighbouring buildings leaned inward like they were watching. Judging.  Or maybe you were just tired.

You stood, stretching out your legs, and glanced at the battered radiator under the window. It coughed, sputtered, then made a sound like it had lost the will to live entirely. So, no help there.

But the wifi was solid, the walls were thick, and Sam hadn’t asked too many questions when you told him to ditch the Google Maps pin and send coordinates in a cipher you’d created for Natasha many years ago. 

You sat cross-legged on the floor. There was no way in hell you were putting your ass on that mattress.  The floor wasn’t much better, but at least it didn’t feel like a biohazard.

Your gear was scattered around you in a loose, familiar orbit. Some of it was yours, worn but reliable. The rest, newer additions Sam had left in the room for you. But the essentials? They never changed. Burner phone to your left. Gun to your right. A half-drunk Red Bull within arm’s reach. The only warmth in the room came from your laptop, buzzing steady against your thighs.

The headset clung tight against your ears, the cable coiled at your collar like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there. It was the only thing keeping you tethered, something solid to focus on while your hands shook and your palms ran cold.

You exhaled, slow. What the hell were you even doing here? You should’ve said no. You could’ve said no. If you’d kept your shit together, maybe you’d be in Fiji right now. Using a rich politician’s credit card you hacked, sipping cocktails and abusing the room service. But instead—this.

Because Sam called. And because deep down, maybe it wasn’t just Sam you said yes to. You swallowed hard and squared your shoulders. You were here now. No backing out. No running.

He asked for your help—and whether it was about the mission or something else entirely, that alone was enough.

“Okay,” you muttered to no one. “Back in the saddle.”

A chime pinged from the laptop. It was Sam

SAM WILSON (incoming): You live?

You rolled your eyes and typed back:

YOU: unfortunately.

The comms link opened with a pop of static. Sam’s voice crackled through the speaker. “What’s crawled up your ass?”

You dropped your head into your hands to avoid punching the laptop. “I’m running on four hours of sleep in a shithole you call a safe house.”

“So business as usual.”

If looks could kill, Sam would be forty feet under.

“We’re just doing a ground sweep. You’ve got eyes on?”

You toggled to the tactical grid you'd just cracked, four security cams stuttering in grayscale. Two guards on the roof. One smoking near the loading dock. A fourth hunched over some kind of device.

“Eyes on and ears in,” you said, adjusting your headset. “You sure you don’t wanna warn Barnes I’m here?”

“He’ll figure it out.”

You arched a brow. “That your version of easing him into it?”

“Look, I didn’t not mention you. I just didn’t... announce it.”

Anxiety crawled up your spine like a spider up a web. That old, creeping feeling—like your body already knew something was about to go wrong even if there was a slim chance it might not. Your stomach twisted, the same way it always did when you let yourself care too much. About him.

“He’s going to be so pissed, Sam.”

A pause.

Then, as smug as ever: “C’mon. Bucky’s never pissed at me.”

You gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. He might make an exception.”

Sam hesitated. Just long enough to make you wonder if he was starting to realize this wasn’t just about you disappearing.

“Just promise me you’ll keep your mic on,” he said, switching lanes like he could steer the whole conversation out of a skid. “If something goes wrong—”

“I’ll improvise,” you said, already back at the keys. “I always do.”

You’d been staring at the same cracked patch of ceiling for forty-seven minutes. The waiting was the worst part. Not the gear, not the tech, not even the mission—just the stillness. The kind that buzzed beneath your skin like something old and familiar, the kind that told you no matter how far you’d run, you were exactly who you’d always been.

It scared you, how easily you’d fallen back into it. One call. One voice on the other end. And you didn’t just say yes,  this was you surrendering. Giving in to that voice that you had ignored for so long.

You should be angry. At him. At yourself. At how fragile the illusion of your new life had been, how quickly the walls you built for peace caved in the second someone mentioned his name.

But the anger never really came. Just that quiet hum in your chest. That thing you couldn’t name. Maybe anxiety. Maybe anticipation. Maybe the kind of pull you didn’t want to admit had anything to do with him.

You told yourself it was the mission. That it was about doing the right thing. But deep down, you knew: it was always going to be about Bucky. You would follow him anywhere. You always had. And that truth—raw and echoing—still scared the shit out of you.

So now, sitting in this freezing room with your comms gear spread across the floor and the familiar itch of adrenaline crawling up your spine, it felt like you’d time-traveled. Like the years in hiding never happened. Like you’d never tried to break away.

You were back in it. And worse—you weren’t sure you ever really left.

The low buzz of static in your headset snapped you out of the spiral you’d been caught in. It was go time. No backing out now.

Your eyes swept across the four camera feeds on your screen. You spotted Sam first—he gave the signal you’d worked out earlier. Simple. Precise. It was the first time you’d seen him in a while, and even through the grainy security footage, there was something different about him. Something steady.

Confidence, sure—but not the cocky, reckless kind. This was heavier. More grounded. The kind of confidence that came with responsibility, with leadership. The kind of presence that made Steve hand him the shield without hesitation.

But still—why had Sam given it up?

It was something you never really got your head around. He was the right choice. He always had been.

Your gaze flicked to the next screen—stairwell cam. John Walker. Great.

You didn’t care where he was. Didn’t want to waste so much as a second of bandwidth tracking him. He could cover his own six. If Sam really thought you were going to drop everything and play backup for Walker, then maybe he’d forgotten who the hell he called in.

Then… you saw him.

Mid-movement on the far-right feed. A flicker of motion caught your eye—and just like that, the air left your lungs.

Bucky.

The footage was rough—washed out and slightly off-kilter from the old camera—but even from a distance, there was no mistaking him. His figure cut clean through the frame, sharp and purposeful against the industrial backdrop.

The light skimmed the gold detailing on his vibranium arm as he rolled his shoulder back, smooth and practiced, like it was flesh and not forged metal. The new arm had a quiet menace to it—sleek, dangerous... maybe even a little sexy.

No. Don’t go there.

You’d never really seen this version. You weren’t there the day they gave it to him. By the time you even had a chance, alien warships were tearing up Wakanda and the world was falling apart again.

His suit was black—tactical, minimal, zipped up to the collar like armor he never quite took off. Every piece had a purpose. Every seam looked built to carry weight. It hugged him like it was made just for him. No frills. No distractions. Just Bucky.

His hair was shorter now.

You remembered the way it felt between your fingers that night—the softness, the weight of it. Gone now. Cropped clean. Less wild. More... controlled.

Like everything else about him.

You watched him flex his left hand once, then go still. That kind of stillness that wasn’t calm—just focused. Like a wolf, watching. Waiting. On the edge of violence.

He didn’t look at the camera.

Didn’t need to.

But somehow, you still felt like he knew someone was watching

The feed pinged. Another motion alert lit up red in the corner of the screen. You adjusted the mic.

“Sam—left corridor is clear. Take the next door on your right, and loop around. Avoid the stairwell. You’ve got a nasty surprise waiting if you go that way.”

You heard Sam’s voice crackle back through comms, calm as ever. “Copy that.”

Your eyes stayed on the screens, tracking every shadow, every flicker of movement. You called it like muscle memory. Fast. Sharp. Detached. But your palms were still sweating. And your heart was beating in a way you really wished it wasn’t.

Then—

“Who the hell’s on comms?”

Bucky’s voice cut through the channel, low and clipped. You could hear the annoyance already curling at the edges. Great.

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Sam sighed.

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Bucky shot back, dry. “You bring in her, and you think I’m not gonna start?”

Your throat tightened.

There it was. The moment you knew was coming—the crack in the silence you’d built your entire life around for the past few years. All the distance you’d put between yourself and this exact situation? Useless now.

Still, you cleared your throat and forced your voice through. “The Dealer’s moving. Two agents coming up behind you, fast. You’ve got ten seconds.”

Silence.

Then, begrudgingly: “Copy.”

You caught Sam’s faint grunt of amusement. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Bucky muttered.

“No, I did,” Sam shot back. “Because I needed someone who knows what the hell they’re doing. Someone who can watch our backs while we’re in the fire. And if you’ve got a problem with that, Barnes, I suggest you keep it to yourself until we’re not under assault.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Bucky didn’t answer, but the way he moved on the screen told you everything. Jaw locked. Shoulders tense. You’d seen that posture before. It was the one he used to get when something was digging under his skin and he didn’t know where to put it.

And god, you hated how familiar that still was.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Part of you wanted to disappear again. Fade back into static, let them finish the mission and figure the rest out later. But Sam had asked for you. Trusted you.

And Bucky—

Bucky had every right to be angry. Because you had disappeared. Left him in the middle of a war and never looked back. Not really. Not in a way that mattered.

Your voice was steadier when it came through again.

“Third floor corridor, west wing—two heat signatures holding near the service elevator. Might be backup. Sam, take Bucky and flank them from the north stairwell. Don’t go in loud unless you have to.”

Another pause.

Then Bucky’s voice, gritted but composed. “Understood.”

You stared at the screen, watching them move. Watching him move.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, the weight of it all settled in for real.

This wasn’t just a mission. This was the start of a reckoning.

You tracked Sam’s heat signature as he cleared the west corridor, voice calm as you fed him directions through the earpiece.

“Two coming up behind the generator. You’ve got thirty seconds until they cross your path—”

A new voice cut in, all bravado and static.

“This is Captain America. Copying channel—what’s the plan, boys?”

You froze.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

You didn’t even try to filter the disdain in your tone. “Wow. Rolls off your tongue real easy, huh?”

Silence. Then a very slow, very deliberate sigh from Walker’s end.

“Who the hell is that?”

“Someone who’s been doing this longer than you’ve had that overcompensating shield,” you muttered.

Bucky’s voice came in next—low, barely more than a breath, but you caught the huff. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh smothered by annoyance.

“Keep moving, Walker,” he said flatly. “You’re blocking the channel.”

You swore you heard Sam mumble something that sounded like Jesus Christ under his breath, but he didn’t correct either of you.

John scoffed. “Real professional mission you’re running here, Wilson.”

“You’re welcome to leave,” Sam replied, bone dry.

“Gladly,” you added. “I’d put my money on you getting lost in the stairwell anyway.”

You heard Bucky click something—probably a fresh mag sliding into place—but there was a half-second pause before he added, “She’s not wrong.”

You didn’t say anything after that. You didn’t have to. The channel was quiet for a beat, and that silence said it all.

A rare kind of solidarity.

Between you and Bucky.

Not forgiveness. Not even trust. Just… alignment.

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how cold the laptop had gone against your thighs. Your hands weren’t shaking anymore, but the weight of what came after this—when the mission ended, when you weren’t safely tucked behind a camera feed—pressed in sharp at the edges of your ribs.

Sooner or later, you were all going to have to face each other in the same room.

You were mid-sweep of the external hallway feeds when a sharp crack split through your headset. The kind of sound you knew too well—the kind that meant something had just gone very, very wrong.

Your fingers flew over the keys as you switched to the north wing camera, the grainy feed stuttering before sharpening just enough to catch a flash of movement and pinpoint the source of the noise.

John Walker. Weapon raised. One guard already slumped at his feet. Another bolting, shouting into a radio.

You yanked your headset closer. “Walker, what the fuck are you doing?”

A pause—

Then another crack of static flared through your earpiece like a whip of white noise. Followed by gunfire.

Of course. Trust Walker to blow the damn mission.

“Sam,” you said, pulse kicking up. “Shit—Walker’s compromised.”

Your hands blurred across the keyboard, flipping between feeds. Walker’s figure flickered from one hallway to the next—his movements all bravado, no strategy. Too loud. Too proud. No subtlety. No sense.

“Walker, stand down,” Sam barked. “We had a plan—what the hell was that?”

“I handled it,” Walker snapped. “Wasn’t gonna sit around waiting for orders while they closed in.”

You didn’t even try to filter your disgust.

“Yeah, well it shows. So easy calling yourself Captain America when you don’t even know how to work with a team.”

A beat of silence.

Then a grunt. A thud.

“What the hell just happened?” Bucky’s voice, low and clipped.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam repeated, tighter now.

“I handled it, alright? Situation changed. I moved.” Walker again—defensive, arrogant, like he hadn’t just jeopardised the entire op.

“You moved without backup,” Bucky snapped. “And you just blew our cover.”

You sat frozen on the floor, heat crawling under your skin. Not from the cold. Not from fear.

Because you already knew what came next.

Then Sam again, quieter this time. Grim.

“Hey, Y/N? Remember when I said to improvise?” A pause. “I think it’s time to improvise.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Bucky’s voice came through like a blade. “You said she was only eyes.”

“She was,” Sam said sharply. “Plan just changed.”

On-screen, more guards were closing in on Walker’s position. Sam and Bucky were two floors over, too far out. There wasn’t time. And if Walker went down—if anyone found out he got hurt when this was Sam's mission. It’d blow back hard.

You stared at the camera feed. At the crumbling mission. At the familiar fury in your chest. You didn’t want to help Walker. You didn’t owe him shit. But you owed Sam. He’d trusted you. Called you in when no one else could.

Goddamn it.

You were on your feet before your brain caught up.

“I’m going,” you muttered into the mic, already yanking on your jacket and sliding the pistol from the floor into the holster at your hip.

You cut the line before anyone could stop you.

This was it. No time to think, no time to prepare.

All those nights you’d imagined how it might go—how you’d run into Bucky again, what you’d say, how he’d look at you—gone.

No carefully scripted reunion. No chance to brace yourself.

This wasn’t about what-ifs anymore.

The only thing that mattered now was whether you remembered your hand-to-hand training well enough to survive this—or if pure adrenaline would do the heavy lifting for you. The only weapons on you were your brain and a gun, and if those failed? You better pray your fists remembered what to do.

Cold wind slapped your face as you sprinted across the alley behind the building, boots slipping on snow-slick cobbles.

The exit you’d mapped as an extraction route had just become your entry point. You yanked open the rear stairwell door, the metal groaning on rusted hinges, and tore up the steps two at a time.

Voices ahead. Movement. No hesitation.

You found Walker in the hallway, back to the wall, still trying to play the hero.

Three guards. One bleeding. Two armed and ready.

They didn’t see you until it was too late.

You ducked the first swing, landed two solid strikes of your own, and drove your knee into the second man’s ribs with a satisfying crunch. The third reached for his weapon—You slammed his head into the wall hard enough to leave a dent.

Walker blinked at you like you’d dropped out of the sky. “Who the hell are—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, grabbing the front of his vest and dragging him behind the nearest cover. “Stay down and try not to make this worse.”His mouth opened—probably to argue—

But footsteps thundered from the stairwell behind you.

“Down!” Someone shouted.

You dropped without thinking. Instinct.

Just as Bucky rounded the corner, gun raised.

Everything stopped. Just for a beat.

His eyes locked on yours.

Not through a camera. Not through surveillance feed and memory.

Right here.

Close enough to hear your breathing. Close enough to see the years in his eyes.

He froze.

You didn’t.

“Sam,” you said into the comms, voice steady despite the burn in your lungs. “Walker’s secure. Threat’s neutralised.”

“Copy that,” Sam replied. “Sit tight. We’re coming to you. Bucky, are you—”

But Bucky didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just stared at you.

And you stared right back, bracing for whatever came next—the confrontation, the anger, the past you hadn’t outrun.

Because nothing about this was going to go the way you wanted it to.

a/n: YASSSS they have reunited!!! I'm actually SO excited to write the next chapter! how are you guys feeeeeelingg

Taglist/ @awkwardgiraffe726 @mcira @greatenthusiasttidalwave

[olailamajnoon]

At Dick and Barbara's wedding:

Bruce: tears in his eyes but doesn't let it show (it's his son's WEDDING, when did Dick grow up? And how did it happen so fast?)

Damian: fidgety (he picks up on Bruce's mood real quick), starts analyzing who is carrying what weapon (he believes in being One Step Ahead)

Tim: stuffing himself with oysters ("man these things are good") and hacking into the wifi of three neighboring buildings (he needs something to do)

Cassandra and Stephanie: drinking too much champagne and dancing, possibly on the tables, wearing fancy matching tulle bridesmaid dresses

Clark: awkward but jolly, keeps adjusting his glasses, trying to figure out how to tell Lois without getting stabbed that the black lipstick is a bit Too Much, she looks like a mummy who is also a witch

Jason: anxiously prepping for best man speech, still can't believe he got picked, thought it would be Wally

Selina: smiling and milling around carelessly in a drop-dead gorgeous purple dress, she's already stolen Clark's pocket watch but intends to return it because he will probably just be nice about it which will make her feel bad

Dick and Barbara: completely engrossed in each other, holding hands and laughing

the Rains of Castamere starts playing...

Damian: takes out his katana, shouts "reveal yourselves!" and charges towards the couple to shield them with his body

Tim: pauses mid-oyster, sees Damian and raises him by taking out his grapple hook and swinging towards the shrimp instead

Bruce: *what is going on face* (he's never heard of Rains of Castamere), but gathers that Something is Going Down so signals Clark while preparing to remove his Batarangs

Clark: mildly confused, heading towards Bruce, already ready to unbutton his shirt

Dick: shouting "what the fuck who did this" while simultaneously trying to smile and play it off as some banter

Barbara: leaning over the wheelchair helpless and wheezing with laughter

Jason: edges closer to Dick to try to get between him and any threat, feeling guilty for hoping that things would escalate so he wouldn't have to do any public speaking

Steph and Cass: trying to look cool and also normal, debating to try and decide what level of astonishment is expected of them

Selina, humming and a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws while she digs her claws into the two girls' shoulders as they try to flee the scene of the crime

[astrstqr]

RAN—DOM ͏ ͏͏ ͏THINGS ͏ ͏ ⭒ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏TO SCRIPT ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏! 3

✶ can run in heels

✶ know how to twerk

✶ know how to drive

✶ know how to count money

✶ know the meaning of all words

✶ able to measure and time things correctly without using anthing

✶ know exactly how to impress someone in a conversation and never embrass myself

✶ can come up with amazing plans/ideas even under pressure

✶ rarely gets sick

✶ can cry on command

✶ can hold my breathe for over 10 mins

✶ can do a flip without using my hands

✶ can mimic anyones voice/great at impressions

✶ know how to do everything in korean culture respectfully and understand it perfectly

✶ my death stare is go good that people get actual chills and goosebumps when they stare at me for too long

✶ my attitude and energy remind people of luxury

✶ everyone understands my sense of humor and i understands theirs

✶ no one finds me annoying

✶ when someone is reminded of their memories with me, they are filled with joyful moments

✶ i have good memory

✶ i work well under pressure

✶ i’m good at reading people’s emotion

✶ im good at making conversation

✶ i remember peoples names

✶ i have the confidence to do whatever i want , whatever i want

✶ im great at comforting people, no matter how well i know them i will always be a great comfort to anyone when they need it the most.

͏✶ my perfume lasts all day

͏✶ i curse very well. like it never sounds or feels excessive or too little

͏✶ don't get bloated

͏✶ doing my hair doesnt take so long to do

✶ any color looks good on me

͏✶ have a good posture

͏✶ have a fast metabolism

͏✶ extremely photo and video genic evenn when caught off guard

͏✶ people often put me in thier dr face claim video

͏✶ my name is extraordinary that it was never heard of before & archaeologists find my name in a old book with a dead language

͏✶ know how to make sims and build on the sims 4

✶ have a royale card (same as a black card but there is no pre-set spending limit) and unlimited money, but when people look up my networth it says 912M

✶ always have my phone with me

͏✶ butterflies like to lay/land on my nose and fingers

͏✶ know how to play faze 10, uno, and monopoly

͏✶ know how to do tiktoks

✶ know how to add mods to my games

✶ have every PC’S and albums of every group i stan

✶ my creadit score is 985 and it doesnt get effected

͏✶ never get tired of eating a certain food.

͏✶ can immediately tell when food has gone bad.

͏✶ my phone doesnt die during important moments

✶ i have unlimited storage and data

✶ my phone never get hot

✶ my phone never cracks or break

͏✶ my phone can zoom in really far

✶ my phone never gets hacked and private information dosent leak

✶ the camera quality is 4k on all devices

͏✶ i always have wifi and signal no matter where im at

͏✶ i never lose my phone, laptop, ipad etc. etc.

✶ all my devices are water proof

͏✶ everything that is premium , cost money etc. is free to me

͏✶ none of my accounts can get banned or suspended

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Platonic Yandere John Wick

John Wick x Continental Employee Reader

It was a quiet Saturday morning at the Continental, it wasn’t very busy this time of year. Besides all of the shady hitman and crime lords that stayed here periodically. Well, it was only hitmen and crime lords that stayed here due to the hotel being a neutral zone. There were dire consequences to anyone who broke the code.

You somehow found yourself employed here after you got mixed up in a bad situation. You were good with computer, and the man at the front desk thought it would be a lovely idea for you to put your skills to use.

Your job on paper is the IT department, you are the whole department. You help Winston, the older man at the front desk, with any computer issues that he might stumble upon. You help with the Wifi, cable and anything to do with electronics.

But The Continental also offers a new service to its VIP members, a resident hacker. Guests can hire you do do some freelance work for them. You’ve done a couple of jobs, hacking into emails and encrypted hardware for hitmen.

It was stressful work, and the people who hired you have made sure that you won’t be a loose end. You haven’t spoken much since you found yourself in the Underworld, but at least you have free food and a room.

You are in the lounge, trying to figure out what’s wrong with one of the lamps, it wouldn’t turn on. You are pulled from your thoughts when Winston approaches you, you stand up from where you are sitting on the carpet.

He looks over all of the wires that you have pulled from the lamp, he frowns a little. But at least you promised him that you would clean up after you were done messing around with the lamp to see if it could be saved.

“No luck?” He asks, a polite smile on his face. You shake your head slightly, glancing down at the lamp laid on the floor. He sighs a little, seemingly disappointed that the lamp was unsalvageable.

“A shame, it was an antique.” He states as he watches me start to clean up, getting all the screws and wires out of the way. You don’t reply to his comment, and he doesn’t expect you to respond either. You don’t talk much.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ll get William to do that.” He says, that smile still on his face, it never quite reaches his eyes. William is one of the bartenders in the lounge, he usually is in charge of generic upkeep in the lounge when there aren’t any guests around.

You huff as you stop cleaning up your mess, standing up and facing Winston again.

“Do you need something?” You ask him quietly, wanting to get to the point. You aren’t one for small talk. Winston sighs in mild amusement, he finds your blunt demeanor endearing.

“I do need your assistance. One of the guests requires your services.” He says in his customer service voice. You nod a little as William approaches and starts to tidy up your mess, putting the broken lamp into a garbage bag.

“I’ll go get my computer..” You mumble, walking out of the lounge and into the front lobby.

“Where are they?” You ask Winston quietly, there are a couple of people hanging around in the lobby.

“Mr. Wick is in conference room 2 on the second floor.” Winston replies, handing you your computer from where he keeps it behind the front desk. You take the computer from him and nod.

You enter the elevator in silence, you press the button for the second floor and you wait. The air in the elevator is thick, you are anxious. You hope that you don’t get a target on your back by helping this man. There is always a risk.

You exit the elevator and step out into the hallway. To turn to the right, past a couple talking to each other and into Conference Room Two.

You close the door behind you, and at the end of the long table, is a man in a black suit. It’s John Wick, what could he possibly want from you.

He nods in greeting, seemingly thrown off by how young you are. You couldn’t be more than 19, how did you get mixed up in this line of work?

You give an awkward smile, and you sit to his left at the table. You open up your computer and you turn it on. You are unnerved by the way he is looking at you.

“What do you need done?” You ask him quietly, booting up some of your hacking softwares. You glance over at him before you look back at the computer screen.

“I need you to trace this frequency.” He says, sliding you a USB drive. This will be a little difficult, tracing a frequency from an audio clip? You could be here for a while. You take the drive and you connect it to the computer, you pull the audio clip and drop it into one of your softwares.

He watches as you type away on the computer and as you compare frequencies from all over the globe.

It takes you about half an hour to tell him the rough location of the frequencies origin.

“Munich, Germany.” You mumble, turning the computer screen to him. He hums, and he hands you a large golden coin. The currency of the underworld.

“Don’t you think you’re a little young to be in this line of work?” He asks quietly, his accent Russian-American. He tilts his head a little towards you, waiting for your answer.

You shrug, looking away from him and turning the computer screen back towards you. He frowns a little at your non answer.

“I’ll talk to Winston about letting you go, you’re to young for this.” He says firmly, standing up from his chair. You close the computer and turn it off.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days, I’ll discuss this with Winston before I leave.” He pats you on the shoulder as he passes you, he leaves the conference room and closes the door behind him.

[pandoraspurgatory]

Ghosts of Hanahaki

Tomura Shigaraki x Fem!Reader. Implied established relationship. HANAHAKI disease AU

Graphic themes ahead, Minors DNI. TW below

TW: Su1c1de in graphic detail, death, vomit, blood, major angst/whump. No happy endings here! You’ve been warned

Tomura wheezed, he couldn’t yet decipher what was sweeter, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth or the hint of magnolias on his tongue.

His lungs burned, what left of his shallow body paced around the leagues home, his footsteps accompanied by the sound of retching and laboured coughs. He grimaced in pain as the petals fluttered out of his mouth with each hack, chrysanthemums weren’t so beautiful when covered in mucus and blood

The league had little to no fight left, not for Tomura, he was long gone. The house was a filthy mess, what was once a home filled with laughter and enticing schemes, was now a cesspit of despair and utter loneliness.

The bath was still stained with blood even months later, what left of you settled in the grout of the bathroom tiles. Scrubbing the remnants of you felt like a final farewell nobody was yet ready to confront.

Mouldy bumpers and half smoked cigarettes lay littered in the dining room, a memoir of Dabis attempt to ignore the situation. Toga had left weeks ago, hopefully to someplace better, you always wanted her to do bigger things anyway.

Hanahaki disease wasn’t near as much of a threat as it used to be, not with the quirks and technology possessed by people in this day and age. It was painful of course, but easily treatable with specialised medication and a hint of shame walking out of the doctors office.

Not Tomura though, the moment this started and a small pink petal escaped his lips, he made his decision to rot in the shame of his fatal mistake. Atoning for his ignorance in a slow form of suicide.

Tomura knew of the cures, with how rotten, heinous and sex obsessed society was, most of the population was bound to develop Hanahaki at least once in their lives. In some cultures it was almost a right of passage, a fucked up version of loosing one’s virginity.

2 months ago the unthinkable, though painstakingly unsurprising finally emerged through the cracks of your well played facade.

Instead of going out in a blaze of glory, surrounded by your comrades as you fought to save society and liberate the slums of the streets… You died convulsing and choking on rancid tasting vomit in a battered porcelain bathtub, wrists slit and eyes dull.

It was hours before you were stumbled upon, taking effort to end yourself while the league were out of the house, it seemed like the most polite thing to do.

It’s what you attempted to convince yourself, in truth you didn’t want your mind to be swayed, or to risk any chance of survival. Truely believing it was better this way, and maybe it was in the long run, it’s not like finding out is an option after the actions you imposed on yourself.

_________________

Tomura walked through the half broken in entryway, Spinner tailing close behind him. After slumping down on the couch, Spinner poured two glasses of whiskey into the fanciest cups they had, handing one to Tomura as he loaded up his league of legends disc.

Solo mode did have its perks of course, though Tomura found it much more stimulating fighting against his best friend. It was often crudely competitive of course, though a quick dose of dopamine before whatever mission was forced on them next.

Through laughter and slowly sipping at their drinks, as well as yelling at painfully long loading screens, the distant sound of dripping slithered its way into Tomuras ears.

He was easily overstimulated in the best of situations, however with the clearly unpaid wifi bill disrupting the game paired with the cheap whiskey dancing on his tongue, he felt himself slowly slip into frustration.

“Fucking Toga, left the tap on again, just another water bill on my ass”

Spinner smirked, taking a quick swig before responding “Relax it Shig, your Master will pay for it, you know that… your girl home?”

He ran his hands through his greasy hair, groaning in frustration, muttering something under his breath about how Toga should know better “yeah, probably having a nap, she’s sleepy”.

Minutes went by quickly as the game finally loaded after Spinner blew the grocery money on the wifi bill. The quickening dripping sound only drilling into Tomuras ears more each second. With a unsatisfied groan Tomura forced his way off the couch, kicking over a Mountain Dew can as he trudged his way into the bathroom. Spinners rapid clicks of the controller didn’t drown out the sound that came from the other end of the house moments later.

The shrill cry pierced his ears. He didnt need to think twice about who it came from. Spinner had heard Tomura in all his moods, whether it was a raspy laugh at a shitty joke, or a grating shout at the wifi failing. Spinner consistently recognised the voice of his closest companion.

He hadn’t heard Tomura like this before, Spinners legs moved faster than his thoughts as he sprinted towards the bathroom, he didn’t know what to expect. For all he knew it could be the second time Tomura encountered a spider in the toilet, though something was amiss.

The scene was gruesome, scalding bile threatened to force its way out of his throat as he looked at the situation before him. The League of course was no stranger to murder and death, but to those who deserved it, those who single handedly carved their own macabre demises.

You laid in the bathroom, in an old t shirt of Tomuras. Your eyes wide open and face covered in vomit and half digested pills. Spinner had never bothered to notice how strong blood smelt prior to this moment, it was sharp and metallic, enough to make him want to collapse. Your wrists dripped onto the tiled floor, mimicking a tap not screwed tight enough.

Blood pooled on the ground below, slit wrists coagulated with dark sticky clots that melted to the floor. How long had you sat here? 2 hours? 3?

The silence was broken by Tomura, his voice shaky on the brink of a mental break, he hissed through clenched teeth.

“She’s sick Spinner, get a glass of water and I’ll put her into bed”

He was taken aback, he knew Tomura wasn’t the most mentally stable man out there, though this had snapped something in him.

“Hurry up Spinner!” He begged, taking long dragged breaths as he rocked back and forth, holding your face in his hands. “She needs to go rest!”

Spinners heart raced. The empty look in your eyes, the purple marks indicating blood pooling under your skin, the way your joints cracked as Tomura attempted to move you.

People would have to be blind to miss the fact that rigor mortis had embraced you before Tomura did.

Dabi and Compress arrived soon after, it took hours of pleading, convincing and restraint to pry your cold and stiff body from Tomuras desperate grasp.

__________

Dabi knew

Spinner knew

Compress knew

Twice knew

They all knew that Tomura didn’t have long left, it was no use fighting the inevitable. The only good parts of him rotted into the tiles, just like you.

What was the point of curing his disease when he wasn’t rejected, but cruelty abandoned by the one who claimed to love him to most?

Only a matter of days later flowers sprouted from Tomuras body. The final stage pastel petals brought much needed comfort to him, much like the hands of his family he dawned on his body when you first met.

The reminders of the lives he took worn on his body as he took his last breath in the bathtub, a last ditch effort to be closer to you.

As much as the league tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault, it was his antidepressants clasped in your hand when he let go of your body.

[sparklystarrrr]

Random Headcannons of my favs!

Synopsis: literally what the title said, it's completely random and I love my baby boys, more Hcs will be added on as I think of them

Contains: Riddle Rosehearts, Idia Shroud, Sebek Zigvolt

Riddle Rosehearts~

out of everyone (Ace, Deuce, Trey) from the Queendom of Hearts he's the only one with a British accent

he listens to either classical music or, if he's feeling a bit cheeky and rambunctious, I feel like he'd listen to Laufey or some of Frank Ocean's slower songs like "White Ferrari" in his free time

he had to ask Vil about where to get a good quality red eyeliner for his dorm uniform

he's always getting snipped in Cater's magicam pics and ends up in photo dumps where he looks kinda disformed (my man ain't always photogenic, unfortunately)

he knows how to play mainly string instruments but did fancy himself a trumpet in middle school

incredibly gullible to modern humor and doesn't understand it, then gets mad when ppl laugh at him for not understanding (almost exploded at a "ur mom" joke that Ace made "WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY MOTHER??!!")

treats the hedgehogs like his children

has his own way of being snarky and making jokes, and when he insults you he makes it BURN.

loses too many brain cells listening to Ace and Deuce trying to formulate an explanation on why they broke a rule

gets really bad headaches

hates playing Uno with a burning passion because someone always has a card up their ass and says they have Uno; the only card game he will never ever play but can't ban it from the dorm because there's probably a rule saying "all kinds of card games are to be played"

definitely bumped into one of his book shelves before and got burried under books

has a strawberry garden in the Heartslabyul garden somewhere

polishing his lil crown is part of his nightly routine

Idia Shroud~

has a GIANT family and they're all super affectionate w him (his yiayia gives him thousands of kisses on his cheeks and calls him her most handsome grandson and he just stands there not knowing what to do)

HE HAS A SLIGHT GREEK ACCENT BCS I SAID SO.(can you tell I love this man being Greek it makes my heart flutter)

him and Ortho have gaming nights and he likes to let Ortho win most of the time like they're still kids

when he takes a shower his fire extinguishes and his hair is kinda like Silver's except blue and has a slight wave in it, probably a lot messier too

if he loses to a game too many times he hacks the game to make it easier for him to win

uses AI for most of his assignments because Ortho won't help him, says it's better for him to do the work himself instead of relying on AI(obvi he does it anyways and Ortho finds out like a disappointed parent)

he has a sleeper build DON'T QUESTION ME ON THAT this man works with machinery like on the daily and ya'll say he's scrawny like NO I DISAGREE

he either ties his hair or clips it back a lot because he gets too annoyed at his hair when it's in his face

he bites his lips a lot whether out of anxiety or on accident, biting his tongue hurts like HELL

if the wifi or power cuts out he will go full blown panic mumbling mode

a fantastic flashlight

keeps painkillers, eye drops and chapstick in a drawer in his night stand but never goes in it

his hands and feet are so cold

he hides his hands in his hair to warm them up in winter

Sebek Zigvolt~

he rly does love his dad a lot, but his pride is much too big for him to say that

gets yelled at a LOT in class or in the library for being wayyy over the volume level

i feel like he can do really cool tricks while doing push-ups like clapping his hands behind his back or doing push-ups one handed

Malleus is over his devotedness and just prays every day that he can have some peace and quiet(he's one more Sebbie speech from striking him with a lightning bolt)

puts a pic of Malleus above his bed

has a plethora of dragon plushies in carrying sizes, shapes, colors and patterns

probably tries to commission someone to recreate the armor that peepaw Baur gave him in the dream

a lot of the students are scared of him because he's so loud, especially students with animal ears or something that gives them increased hearing(they hear him from more than a mile away... not fun for sensitive ears)

gets embarrassed really easily

had baby hands for the longest time

can't choose between pampering himself to look good as Malleus's knight or to pamper Malleus more than he already does and look gruff and beat up to be intimidating and manly

he does like Silver, he just cares about him in his own way(I saw something similar to this but I don't remember who drew it, but it was Sebek holding Silver up while he was sleeping again and I actually cried my baby boys are so cute)

he had to find a new horse for Equestrian club because the one he had when starting out in the club was too short and his legs touched the ground while sitting atop the horse

knows how to cook stuff but only things high in protein and made for strengthening

eats Lilia's cooking because he honors him too much and then has a stomach ache that feels worse than getting dragged on the burning floors of Hell

speaking of being sick, it's the only time he's remotely quiet. I don't mean he's not loud but he just can't talk at his normal decibel of speaking (everyone is praising the Lord)

i love my silly boys

[silverware-drawer]

��� felppps-6391 🔁 cellbo

🔎 cellbo Seguir

why is my castle full of smoke

🟥 felppps-6391

'-'

🔎 cellbo Seguir

DID FOOLISH HOTBOX THE FUCKING BLOOD ROOM

🟥 felppps-6391

'-'

4 notas

🪑 what-the-muffin 🔁 kocwillrock

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

guys whart happens if you set cocaine on fire you have one minute adn then im trying it

🪑what-the-muffin

0_0 . . .whart

💣 endcrystalenjoyer Seguir

whart

🪺 philza Seguir

whart

🔰 etoyless Seguir

whart

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

THATS CRAZY ITS ALMOST LIKE NOBODY ASKED

#heeheeheeheehee #prank tag

26 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 its-nice-to-miku

🐦 its-nice-to-miku Seguir

culeros

🥵 peterparkoier

YESSSSS MAMOSSSSS

403 notas

🪷 quackitieeee 🔁 elmar1an4

🌻 elmar1an4 Seguir

es lunes 😏 alguien quiere ser mi novio 😜

🦠 backflipo-numero-uno Seguir

IT'S TUESDAY YOU CHEATING BITCH FUCK YOU

🌻 elmar1an4 Seguir

yes ok I am waiting in the bedroom

🦠 backflipo-numero-uno Seguir

okay give me a couple of minutes

🪷 quackitieeee

what the fuck is wrong with you guys

5 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 cellbo

🔪 cell-bites

você vai se arrepender disso nunca esquecerei o quão saborosa sua perna era

furryfury999-deactivated38192947

Umm. . . .what the fuck ??

garbage-meister-deactivated92929947

why the hell are people in the notes acting like this is real lmfao did you idiots forget that people LIE on the INTERNET

horsey-of-coursey-deactivated848291083

okay, but has nobody noticed how this lines up perfectly with that insane alcatraz breakout that was in the news last month, only this was posted first??

garbage-meister-deactivated92929947

i'm dying y'all are so fucking dumb LMFAO

🔎 cellbo Seguir

STOP TAGGING ME THIS POST IS A THOUSAND YEARS OLD I DONT EVEN KNOW WHO THIS IS

🥵 peterparkoier

ENIGMA DO MEDO 😱

899.113 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 its-nice-to-miku

🪺 philza Seguir

Get you a man with two hundred and twenty seven alt accounts that are all in constant danger of being banned for hacking

💣 tnt-cannoff-1748 Seguir

God damn, hit on by Philza Minecraft himself, never thought I'd see the day 😳

🪺 philza Seguir

Lmao nah mate but I am hitting your gym. Give me ten minutes

💣 big-daddy-bigger-breakfast Seguir

Hell yeah

589 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 4ever-420

🕓 4ever-420 🇧🇷☑️ Seguir

PHILZA

--VERIFIED PRESIDENTIAL POST--

🕓 4ever-420 🇧🇷☑️ Seguir

CARALHO BAGHERA DONT REBLOG THAT IT WAS A DRAFT I DIDNT MEAN IT TO POST

--VERIFIED PRESIDENTIAL POST--

🐥 baghz-quacks Seguir

I don't know what youre talking about forever, it was a verified presidential post ?

🪺 philza Seguir

lmfao

🕓 4ever-420 🇧🇷☑️ Seguir

HOW DO I DELETE OTHER PEOPLES POSTS

--VERIFIED PRESIDENTIAL POST--

🕓 4ever-420 🇧🇷☑️ Seguir

FUCKING CUCURUCHO GET RID OF THIS BANNER RIGHT NOW

--VERIFIED PRESIDENTIAL POST--

🥵 peterparkoier

nem fodendo 👀

3,066 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 missa-not-missing

👑 chay-chay-chefs-blade Seguir

extra pics of the cake process because lulah told me to post them o7

Link

💀 missa-not-missing Seguir

CHAYANNE YOU'RE SO TALENTED

🪺 philza Seguir

Missa :D you finally back in wifi range?

💀 missa-not-missing Seguir

YES I AM COMING HOME RIGHT NOW

Thirty minutes!!

🪺 philza Seguir

. . .you good mate? It's been hours

💀 missa-not-missing Seguir

PHILZA HELP I FELL IN A HOLE

699 notas

🚇 tubbohell 🔁 philza

🔰 etoyless Seguir

L+ratio well played gf

🪑 what-the-muffin

@kocwillrock

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

SHUT UP GO GET KIDNAPPED

🚇 tubbohell

am I missing something since when does etoiles have a girlfriend???

342 notas

🪑 what-the-muffin 🔁 what-the-muffin

🦈 kocwillrock Seguir

HOW IS HE GOOD AT EVERYTHING ITS FUDGING BEANBAG TOSS

🪑 what-the-muffin

hey foolish what does étoiles use when it rains

🪑 what-the-muffin

. . .a cucumbrella 0_0

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🕓 4ever-420 ☑️🇧🇷 Seguir

Hi bad :D

-- VERIFIED PRESIDENTIAL POST --

🪑 what-the-muffin

Hi forever :D

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

🪑 what-the-muffin

foolish

666 notas

🥵 peterparkoier 🔁 ⚠️ pactriggerwarning

🦄 ayyyyypierre Seguir

If you want free GEGGS come to the GEGG factory under the statue of GEGG

🎼 wilbur-soot-official ☑️

i fucking hate gegg

🔎 cellbo Seguir

???

🔎 cellbo Seguir

this is the only thing he's ever posted?!??!??????

⚽ doctor-ovo Seguir

kkkkkkkkkkkkkk

🪪 elquackity ☑️

TU IN INFERNO PECCATORES ET IMBECILES SERA TU TUAM TUAM MISERERE CAELUM IGNEM PLUET ET SANGUIS TUUM IGNIS SIT NON ESSE TE VENIAT ARBITRIO TEMPESTATEM VENIAT ET NUNQUAM TE STULTI OMNES LUDIBRIBUS TUA RETUSUS OVIS ET RETUSUS FERRARIA ERIS OMNES MORTUUM ESSE ACTUTUM USQUAM VALE ET EGO NON REQUIRO

🧪 aquimicaehloka Seguir

what the hell

[melanodis]

don't really have much for a caption but i do have batshit insane rambling and more art under the cut

hardware capable of temporarily. read: TEMPORARILY. substituting for the central core to minimize downtime during maintenance

got wiped like 7 different times because he kept questioning his existence until they finally encrypted his imprint so much they had him asking how to use a doorknob

dual core processor equivalent to a PowerPC 970, capable of clocking up to 2.7 GHz for intensive tasks

always looking for """vintage""" computer parts in the hopes that they could be a compatible upgrade, like more RAM for his beautiful big brain ideas (wrong)

stole a network card out of a scientist's computer as a prank once he remembered humor. forgot to put it back and constantly tortures everyone else with his wifi capability

205X specific :

i don't think anyone is exactly jumping for joy at the words "open heart surgery." Especially not when it's you... on a table... alone with a light and a scalpel.

lights are dimmer for power conservation (dogshit battery)

processing power is also reduced unless necessary for hacking

low power mode has a dual purpose; conservation of battery power as well as keeping temperatures low to prevent overheating (huge headache + lots of broken parts)

clear coat has long eroded due to weathering + gel exposure during chamber maintenance

loss of coolant is nearly a death sentence for him and anyone involved due to the particular chemical mixture being difficult to find + reproduce (insanely hazardous to touch or breathe the fumes of)

yeah his radiator is probably rusted over but he's not touching that. it hasn't completely plugged itself so who cares (not him)

built like an old ass car, completely made of metal and doesn't crumple when impacted, leading to... lots of dents and shaken internals. nokia 3310 headass. he couldn't be assed to go through the cosmetic surgery that is fixing one of the newer models after a little fall (unless they're a patient of course)

on a related note, virgil is the robot equivalent of a beater car with the check engine light on and probably 6 other lights on, the underside is completely rusted out and the tires are bald. but it still runs so whatever, drive it into the ground buddy. he genuinely refuses to perform any work on himself unless its something critical. boo hoo nobody cares about some sensors and --- ah. temperature sensor.

i think

that can wait a little longer.