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[loganjameshowlett]

SWALLOWTAIL

02: OVER TROUBLED WATER

pairing: joaquín torres/ex-widow!reader summary: the team stages an ambush. you and joaquín learn to trust each other a little bit more. word count: 8k+ series masterlist | previous installment | next installment

Madripoor’s neon skyline blazes like daylight, even– or especially– during the cloaked late night, early morning hours. 

It dazzles you every time. In your line of work, a trip out to the City of Anything Goes is not uncommon, but it feels like a treat all the same. Madripoor buzzes with an undeniable kind of energy. Stepping foot on its soil feels as separate from the rest of the world as would stepping on the moon. And, really, the necessity of boldness here is a breath of fresh air from the bundled up norm of your current home. Every time you’re here, you’re chasing down a lead or doing reconnaissance, but if you ignore that bit it feels a little like a good excuse to wear something nice and drink something that probably glows in the dark. 

“You have an apartment here?” Bucky asks. The alternating purple and green lights on the building in front of you bounce off his face, casting him in a pallor. 

“It’s a spider web,” you tell him, punching in the door code. “Escaping the Red Room is hard, but it’s usually not as hard as holding onto your freedom after the fact. We ex-widows have a network– information, safehouses. We do what we can to help keep each other free.”

It’s not some luxury Hightown skyscraper, but the building does alright. High ceilings and tall windows that wash the floor in a rainbow of neon lights. An air conditioner that at least partially works against Southeast Asia’s heat and humidity. You spent two months here after Maria Hill had broken your conditioning but before you made the decision to work with SHIELD. The memory draws close and complicated around your heart. 

You unlock the door, and your trio of superheroes files in on silent feet. Bucky’s eyes dart around in that familiar way, sweeping the open living/dining area for danger. In contrast, Joaquín traipses in and drops his gear bag gently on the floor next to the couch, stepping towards the wall of windows and letting out an appreciative whistle. The first hints of sunrise are blotting against the seam of the skyline blue turning to pale gray. 

“We’re meeting a friend of mine tonight at the floating markets,” you tell them, readjusting your own gear bag on your shoulder. “You might as well catch some sleep before you have to make yourselves presentable.” 

With that, you cross the kitchen and close yourself into the larger of the flat’s two bedrooms down the hall. Your gear bag lands next to the door with a thud, followed by the thump-thump of your boots being haphazardly kicked off. You fall into bed still in your clothes from the tarmac. The clinging scent of gunpowder and pine sap is momentarily overtaken by the sweet citrus smell of the sheets– comforting and familiar. You fall asleep almost immediately in the warm cradle of the bed. 

When you wake up, the sun is a fat yellow yolk low on the horizon: late afternoon. You stretch, jostling the sore shoulder you were sleeping on until it no longer twinges with every movement, and then move to open the bedroom window. A humid breeze tumbles in, dancing with the curtains and carrying with it the ever present symphony of sound that is Madripoor. For a minute, you pretend that this is just life– just your apartment, just your evening to fill how you want it. Just a woman in her city, all kinds of unfamiliarly unburdened. You close the window just as fast and make for the shower. 

There’s a cache of your clothes still in the closet from your few months calling this place home. You idle in front of the open door for a minute, clutching the front of your terrycloth towel and trying to make a choice. The floating markets are more casual, and one of the most touristy things in this neighborhood. Also colder, what with being on the river. It will be best to lean into the tourist thing. Some brighter colors or patterns, like someone who hasn’t thought a second about whether or not they’re blending in with the crowd, because why would they?

You settle on a maxi shirt dress, navy blue and drenched in little white flowers. It hugs nicely at your waist and hangs artfully loose on one shoulder, exposing a bare expanse of collarbone. Pretty good ease of movement, and the button-up aspect of the whole ensemble allows for your throwing knives in a thigh holster. You finish everything off with a sturdier pair of brown sandals. You feel underdressed and overdressed at the same time– you’re always far too conscious of wearing a disguise. You throw one longing look at a more comfortingly familiar pair of pants spilling out of the top of your duffel bag, before opening the door and heading for the living room. 

Sam is standing by the wall of windows in a button-down you can only describe as at least mildly garish. He turns at your footsteps and gives a teasing whistle. 

“Well, someone cleans up nice,” he says, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Leave it to a man to still not understand the importance of utilizing fashion for fitting in, even after spending as much time as Sam has on the run. 

“You could learn a thing or two,” you retort. Bucky laughs from the kitchen and you whirl on him, taking in his gray t-shirt and black utility pants stuffed into heavy black boots. 

“This is not gonna work,” you tell him matter-of-factly. “We’re trying to blend in with the tourists, not get an award for most suspicious group of people at the market.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asks with a not my problem kind of shrug. 

“Put on some jeans, at least,” you tell him. “And I’m sure Sam has another one of these fugly shirts lying around.”

“Ha, she called your shirt fugly,” Joaquín chimes in as he comes out of the flat’s second bedroom. He’s wearing a dark green pair of pants and a beige shirt with some embroidery in a different shade of the same color. You nod to yourself in approval. At least one person gets what’s going on here. 

He stops short when his dark eyes land on you, the teasing smirk sliding off his face. They rove quickly down your body before shooting back up to make some embarrassed eye contact, as though he’d only just realized what he’d done. You prop up one eyebrow at him, and find yourself oddly self-satisfied at the color that floods his cheeks. 

“This is a great dress,” he says, voice a little dazed like his mouth is working independent from his brain. “Uh– I mean– you look great. Really.”

“Uh-huh, thanks,” you say, before turning back to Bucky and pointing a finger at him. “You– change. We’re already late.” Bucky grumbles about it, but heads into the second bedroom with Sam to find something else to wear. 

You stand in the living room, arms crossed comfortably over your chest. Joaquín is two feet away from you, dark hair and bronzed skin gilded in pink-gold early evening sunlight. He seems to be making a concerted effort to stand casually, but even you can tell he’s fidgeting to talk. 

The desire wins out, and he turns those dark eyes back on you. “So, what are the floating markets like?”

“Busy. Troublesome,” you tell him. “It’s a whole chaotic mess of docks and boats selling anything you could ever need. The lights are too bright, the music is too loud, and they upcharge everything because tourists come for a taste of the ‘dangerous lowtown nightlife’ they’ve heard so much about.” 

“Good food, though?” he asks after a moment. 

“Good food, though,” you concur. 

—

The sun has almost entirely set by the time you reach the floating markets. They are the exact riot of color and sound that you remember, sardine-packed with tourists and perfumed with the mouth watering scents of a hundred different kinds of food being cooked all at once. A part of you longs for the time to amble through the market looking for old favorite stalls and finding new ones, sampling every dish you can get your hand on, but there’s not time. You promise yourself that when this is all over, you’ll come back and stay in the flat for a week or two before heading back to Prague. It’s probably a lie, but it makes you feel better. 

“Don’t get lost,” you offer to the three men trailing behind you, before you slot your way into the surging crowd. You expertly maneuver around workers and tourists alike, stacked boxes of supplies and wares. When you reach an old favorite laksa stall, you spot her. 

Just as promised, Mali Boonmee’s head of dark, shaggy hair sticks out among the patrons– a family of sunburned and freckled ginger tourists. She’s unusually tall for a Thai girl, a collection of long, muscled limbs and a face with high, wide cheekbones that narrow into a sharp chin. You haven’t seen her since you were living in the flat, and you fight down a surge of near-overwhelming affection when she shoots a smile at you, unfolding herself from her stool to come greet you. 

“My girl,” she coos, her arms engulfing your shoulders in an instant. “How are you?” 

“Good, all things considered. You?” You return her hug in full force, squeezing her forearms when she finally pulls back. 

“Very good lately. We’ve had two widows through the web in the last few months, and I understand one of them was your doing.”

“Zarela. Took me two months, but I finally ran her down in Svalbard and sent her this way. She’s doing alright?” 

“It was a rough time, the first couple weeks. But we sent her to Dahlia in Granada. She said she wanted to be home, even if she can’t ever really be home. Helping Dahlia out is close enough,” Mali shrugs. You nod, pleased to hear that your last rescue project had found a semi-permanent home, at least. But you all know that pain. Madripoor is the closest Mali ever gets to actually going home to Thailand, setting up shop here like a moon orbiting its planet. You, historically, have stayed much farther away from home. That’s one wound you’re not quite willing to face, even now. 

“Right, well,” you move slightly to the side so that Mali can get a better look at your companions. “Mali, this is Sam, Bucky, Torres. Guys, this is Mali Boonmee, our trusted contact and my good friend.” 

“I’ve seen you, of course, Stars and Stripes,” Mali says with her winning smile. “Good to meet you all. Find a spot and I’ll get you some laksa. Then we’ll talk.” 

“She’s charming,” Sam says sincerely as Bucky shoulders his way to a cramped, empty table. 

“We tend to be,” you respond with a languid, one-shouldered shrug. Joaquín liberates a couple of unused chairs from a neighboring table, and you drop into one of them. 

“She’s an ex-widow, then?” Joaquín asks. 

“Aren’t you quick on the draw.” 

Bucky huffs out a laugh at your words, and you feel a little spark of pride. It’s easier to make him laugh these days than it was when you first met him– you chalk it up to having Sam by his side– but it feels like a real feat each time you manage it nonetheless. A minute later, Mali makes it through the labyrinth of tables and bodies, her arms laden with four bowls of laksa. She distributes them with elegant speed, before slotting into the last empty chair. 

“So, I have good news and bad news,” she says immediately. 

Sam pauses with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Good news first, thank you very much.”

“I located your Aetos Device,” Mali responds. “The bad news is that it has already changed hands, and the group you tangled with back in Prague has melted back into the shadows.”

“Who has it now?” Joaquín asks. 

“There’s an underground group that operates here called the Golden Diadem. Mostly deal in stolen arms, the kind of shit most people think is still totally in the realm of science fiction. It’s a tight operation– usually a lot of security due to the nature of the goods. I have it on good authority, though, that the Aetos Device is going to be traveling through Lowtown and into Hightown tomorrow night. There’s a big auction at the Black Opal. They’ll be trying to get the device there at any cost.”

“Whose authority is this on?” Bucky asks, his face transformed into that familiar look of stony skepticism. His laksa sits untouched in front of him. You roll your eyes. 

“I brought us to Mali because we can trust her. So either do that, or don’t. But this is the only lead we have,” you respond before Mali can get the chance. 

“We have a good chance here,” Joaquín cuts in, clearly willing to trust Mali’s intel from the outset. “The bridge between Lowtown and Hightown is long. If we can ambush them there, we might have a chance of getting the device without them getting away.” 

“Exactly what I was going to suggest. Good thing one of these guys is smart,” Mali says. Her eyes sweep Joaquín with a newfound appreciation, which goes entirely unnoticed. You can tell he’s all in his head now, trying to plan out the ambush. 

“I’d feel better about this if we had more details. I don’t like the idea of any of us going in so blind,” Sam says finally. 

“I’ve seen the Golden Diadem do this before. Depending on the payload, it’s usually one or two armored trucks and an escort of armored cars. I’d stake out the bridge earlier in the night, but they don’t usually move until two or three in the morning,” Mali details. “That’s all I can offer. They’re being more tight-lipped about this operation than usual, evidently.”

Mali reaches into her bra and produces a slim black usb drive. You open your hand and she drops it into your palm, before you quickly secrete it into a small pocket in the inside lining of your dress. Mali nods toward it. “It’s a file I’ve been keeping on the Golden Diadem for the last year and a half, including what I have on the auctions that go on annually at the Black Pearl. If there’s anything else helpful for you to know, it’ll be in there.” 

“Thank you for your help,  Miss Boonmee,” Sam says. 

Mali nods at him, but her eyes are on you when she speaks again. “Sure thing. Drop a line if you need anything else while you’re in town.”

You all stand from the table, half-eaten bowls of laksa abandoned. Mali comes around the table and grabs your wrist before you can get away without a goodbye, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. When you separate, you’re surprised to find an involuntary smile stretching across your face. 

“Come see me in Prague someday,” you tell her, finding that you mean it. “I’ll take you to that three story club.” 

“I’ll take you up on that someday, sister,” she says, before turning around and disappearing into the crowd. 

When she disappears from sight, you turn and start to move in the other direction.. “Let’s go, boys. We have studying to do.”

–

Back at the flat, Joaquín took no time in setting up his little tech center at the small dining room table. He spread two monitors and a cache of other unrecognizable gadgets across the painted wood and was sitting locked into his screens before the rest of you had barely gotten through the door. 

“USB please,” he calls, blindly reaching an open hand out behind him. On one of the monitors in front of him, tiny-fonted code scrolls by in a blur. On the other, three windows of equally small text overlap upon each other. When you fail to produce the USB for him within a nanosecond, he waggles his fingers impatiently, casting those dark eyes over his shoulder for just a moment before they return to his screens. 

“God, here,” you say, digging inelegantly in your little pocket and slapping the little black rectangle into his palm with some force. 

“Can I take this off now?” Bucky asks, gesturing to his garish borrowed shirt. 

“Back to your uniform, Barnes. We’re doing stealth for the rest of the day,” you affirm. 

“This file is big as hell,” Joaquín mutters. 

“We don’t have time to read through all that– we need to be in place on that bridge by midnight, preferably with a plan,” Sam says. Arms crossed and brows furrowed, he looks all the part of the concerned and a little bit brooding leader. 

“We have all we need, Sam,” you assure him. “The bridge is the perfect place for an ambush, which we all seem to agree on. We know that we’re looking for armored trucks, and that we have a relatively short window of time for them to be passing through the bridge. All we need to figure out is the logistics of the ambush, and with four big brains in this room, I’m sure we can get our shit together in time.” 

“Aerial assault is the way to go,” Bucky cuts in as he emerges from the front bedroom, comfortably back in his familiar black t-shirt and black utility pants. 

“We don’t want to draw any more attention than we have to, Buck,” Sam counters. 

“I’m not sayin’ we bomb the bridge. You and the kid have wings, so let’s use ‘em. You get in quick and take their tires out from the air. We’ll have a much better chance if they’re stranded.” 

“How are we getting into the armored trucks?” you ask. 

“Metal arm?” Bucky responds quickly, lifting the arm in question. 

“Ookay then. Sounds like we have a plan in place,” you say, turning to Sam. 

He sighs. “You know, I don’t love the way you two operate together.”

“Maybe don’t drag me into your next problem, then, Cap.” You pat him on the shoulder twice as you pass him on the way back to your room. 

Once the door is closed behind you, you close your eyes and take a breath. Most of the ops you’ve been doing lately have been a lot smaller than what this one is shaping up to be– everything inside of you flexes nervously like an unused muscle around the scope and severity of it. With any luck, you’ll be able to swipe the device tonight and be back in Prague before you even start to miss it. 

You change quickly into a black pair of pants and a matching shirt that you know won’t restrict your movement, and a pair of work boots that you wear almost every day without fail. The soles have been worn smooth in several bald patches and you’ve been meaning to get a new pair, but you always put it off because you hate breaking new boots in. You grimace at the slide of them across the smooth floor and hope that your procrastination isn’t about to cost you this op or your life. 

When you return to the kitchen, Sam and Joaquín are nowhere to be found. Bucky stands at the island, back in his first choice of outfit, a mug of black coffee on the counter at his hip and a tablet in his splayed hand. From the concentrated furrow of his brow, you assume that he’s reading over some of the data dump that Joaquín had filtered from Mali’s datastick. He looks up as you come in, blue eyes meeting yours briefly before focusing back on the tablet. 

“Coffee?” he asks. 

“Please,” you nod, sidling up to the island across from him. “Anything pertinent from the data dump on there?”

Bucky plucks a maroon earthenware mug from one of the sparse cabinets and fills it from the carafe. He looks over his shoulder at you for a moment, eyes squinting in some sort of analysis, before dropping two spoonfuls of sugar in and stirring. 

“There’s no cream,” he says as he brings the mug over to you, like he knows, somehow, how you usually take it. 

“Thanks,” you nod, bringing the mug to your lips. “So?”

“Your friend told us the most important stuff already: time and place. There’re a lot of details about the Golden Diadem in that file, but mostly stuff we won’t ever need to know. I take it you know your way around here?”

“Well enough. Lived in this flat for a few months, once upon a time,” you affirm. 

Bucky nods once, decisively. “Then we defer to you tonight, alright?”

“You mean I get to wear the captain suit? Wings and all?” You grin, and Bucky lets out a snort. 

“Don’t push your luck, kid.”

You snap your fingers in mock disappointment. “All of the responsibility and none of the fun, huh?”

Bucky indulges your joke with a smile, before his face turns serious. You steel yourself, unsure what he’s thinking about, or what he’ll say next. 

“I know that you know how to run an op like this successfully,” he says. His thought seems unfinished, but the silence stretches on so long that you feel the need to fill it. 

“Exactly. You can trust me, Barnes. That’s why you dragged me out here,” you respond, brows furrowed in slight confusion. 

“I know we can trust you. We do trust you. That’s not what this is about,” he assures you with a wave of his gloved metal hand. 

“Then what is it about?”

He’s silent for a little while more, considering. When he speaks, his voice is an order gentler, and the unexpected softness grates at you. “Getting this tech back is extremely important, yes, but– don’t get yourself killed tonight, alright? I know how you were taught to operate, but this isn’t that anymore. This isn’t even SHIELD anymore. The team’s personal safety is a priority on an op like this when you’re working with us.” 

You swallow against the quick, unexpected butterfly flutter of emotions welling up in your chest. It’s the kind of sentiment that you would have scoffed at coming from almost anyone else, but not Bucky. Not the only person you got to work with in a professional capacity who understood everything that came before. He knows, intimately, what it is to be nothing but a gun in hand. Painfully aware that you are a body and only a body, that anyone you’ve ever had the courage to care about is only a body, that everything can be ripped away across the measure of one sharp intake of breath. It had taken all of your time with SHIELD to curb the bone-deep impulse to throw yourself recklessly in front of every bullet– the idea of your personhood in and of itself having a certain inalienable value is frankly something you are still learning. 

“No one’s dying tonight, Buck. I promise,” you tell him, nodding your head as if to convince both of you. 

– 

“Let me take that,” Joaquín says from beside you, extending a hand. Enclosed in his helmet and the rest of his Falcon suit as he is, his muffled in-person voice melds strangely with the crisper version of his words coming through your earpiece. 

“No, quit asking me,” you snap back with a huff. You readjust the strap of your duffel bag of gear on your shoulder defiantly. 

“Bet we could move faster if you let me carry it,” Joaquín asserts, shimmying his shoulders in a clunky and weirdly sensuous way when you cut a glare at him. 

“Insinuate that I am incapable again and I will neutralize you before the Golden Diadem ever gets the chance,” you promise. 

Joaquín holds his hands up in surrender. “Did not mean to offend and I am fully aware that you could carry out that threat with ease. I just want to be helpful.” 

You bite back another remark because, infuriatingly, you know that he’s being genuine. Back in your SHIELD days, you’d had to work with plenty of men who were condescending– purposely or unconsciously– at every turn, even when they knew your background, which, frankly, was an opinion of yourself that took a lot of balls to uphold in the face of a Red Room graduate. You were not surprised in the slightest by the number of men whose egos were that inflated, especially in your line of work, and over the years you’d gotten very good at spotting them before they even opened their mouths. Joaquín isn’t one of them, even if sometimes you catch yourself wishing that he was. 

“Take the damn bag, bird boy,” you grumble, sliding the duffel strap off your shoulder and shoving the whole thing at him. You can see his self-satisfied grin through his faceplate. 

“If you two are done, scope out your spot and report back when you’re in position,” Sam cuts in over the comms. 

“On it, Cap,” Joaquín answers. The two of you are roughly halfway across the bridge into Hightown when you stop walking. The plan is that while Sam and Joaquín will be taking turns patrolling aerially and looking for the convoy to give a heads up, you and Bucky will be setting up some ready-made traps– tire spikes, the likes– to stop them before they can make it across the bridge. Vehicles disabled, the four of you will descend on the convoy, grab the device, and get the fuck out of there. 

In theory, at least. 

“Best spot we’re gonna get,” you announce, looking up at the bridge’s support tower. It takes three seconds for you to knock out the service light, shrouding your small corner in as complete a darkness as one can come across in Madripoor. Joaquín dumps the gear bag on the ground and retracts his face plate. 

“We’re posted halfway down the bridge,” he says into his comm. 

“Saw you knock out the light. Setting up directly across the bridge,” Bucky answers. Joaquín acknowledges, before turning back to you. 

“So, we got, what? Two hours to kill? Three?” he asks, leaning against the great metal tube of the support beam. 

“On the low end of that, if we’re lucky,” you say, dropping to your knees and unzipping the duffel. You pull out two coiled up strips of tire spikes and set them on the ground for ease of access. In the dark, your hands ghost over the bulletproof vest that Sam insisted you take (“You’re the only one without a suit of armor or the super soldier serum, so you’ll wear the damn vest!”) and hesitate for a few seconds before you grab it and slip your arms through it. It’s more constricting than what you’re used to working in, but some part of you recoils at the thought of dishonoring someone’s care for your life. Finally, you grab a pair of slim binoculars from the bag and straighten up to your full height. 

“You ever done something like this before?” Joaquín asks. At your quirked brow, he elaborates, “An ambush, I mean. Or like, was it more… stealthy, before.”

“You can call it the Red Room. It’s not a dirty word,” you inform him, toggling the night vision off the binoculars and sweeping them out towards Lowtown. 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Joaquín shrugs. “I didn’t want to bring up any memories for you or anything.”

“I remember them anyway,” you say, voice softer than before. The small kindnesses thrown your way today are beginning to pile up, and you aren’t quite sure how to hold them, or where to put them. Joaquín nods once, and silence balloons between the two of you. 

“So, ambushes? Yes or no?” he asks into the night a few minutes later. 

You swallow down a snort. “No, a teenage girl’s spywork did not typically include many ambushes.” 

“What about with SHIELD?”

“Don’t you have to patrol?” you ask, gesturing up toward the sky. 

“Nah, Sam said he’d go first,” Joaquín responds, shooting you a childish grin. 

“Lucky me,” you mutter. Silence reigns for a while more, the pair of you watching neon traffic race across the bridge from your little smudge of darkness. 

“How’d you meet Sam?” you ask, the words out in the air between you before you even realize you’ve said them. 

“The Air Force,” Joaquín answers. The corner of his lip ticks up fondly at the memory. “Run of the mill op, we met and became friends, sort of. I don’t think he fully trusted me like– well, like he does now– until I helped him with all the Flag Smasher stuff.” 

You nod. “I remember that. He spoke highly of the Intelligence kid that helped out with that situation, but I didn’t realize it was you.” 

“So, you worked with him after that?” 

“Before, after. I’ve helped these two out a couple times,” you shrug. “Met them both in my SHIELD days, but it wasn’t until I– or, you know, all of us– came back from the Blip that I ever worked closely with them. SHIELD was gone, half of the country’s heroes were on the run, and I found myself taking my own directives for the first time.” 

“Tough thing to come back to,” Joaquín remarks. You nod, keeping your eyes on the traffic. Sam and Bucky idly chatter in your ear, and the breeze off the river freezes the sweat on the back of your neck. You’re suddenly all too aware of just how much you’ve divulged about yourself to this virtual stranger. It’s halfway mortifying– a little too much time on your own and you’re spilling your guts to the first person who will listen. 

“Got through it. Made a life for myself outside of any of it,” you respond finally. Joaquín turns to face you, those dark eyes roving your face in profile. You count the bright, neon-lit cars racing past, pretending not to notice. 

He seems about to say something more, but Sam’s voice cuts through the comms, calling his name. 

“Torres, up in the sky! Keep an eye on the wider avenues– they’ll need the room to get a convoy of trucks through.” 

“Got it,” Joaquín says, his faceplate locking once again over his features. He turns to you, tapping the side of his helmet approximately where the comm speaker is. “Ring me if you need me?”

“I can hold things down here,” you deadpan. 

He grins. “I know you can.” 

He steps up onto the bridge’s waist-high railing and launches out over the river. In seconds, you’ve lost him in the sultry cloud cover over the island. 

–

The convoy materializes in Lowtown an hour and a half into your surveillance. Four armored trucks, just as Mali described them, and an escort of sleek black escalades in front and behind. 

“We’ve got incoming from Lowtown, central avenue,” Joaquín’s voice crackles to life on your comm. His voice is giddy when he tacks on, “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

“Central avenue is bold,” Bucky comments back. In the dark across the bridge, you see a sliver of his metal arm– where jacket just fails to meet glove– flash back the reflection of the sparse passing headlights. 

“Because they know they run this shit more than the prince does,” Sam answers. “I’m taking flight. Ground team, are you in position?”

“Ready,” you pipe up. You move further down the Lowtown side of the bridge, coil of tire spikes in your hand. Joaquín updates the convoy’s position every few seconds in your ear until you can see them yourself, dark, expensive cars like a herd at the mouth of the bridge. They stand out in their ordinary darkness among the colorful, neon-bright Madripoor traffic. 

You toss out the tire spike right before the leading pair of expensive escalades reaches you. Their tires pop, and at the speed they’re traveling, they both go skidding forward, half out of control. The first one screeches to a sideways halt, trying to regain control, and the second slams into its passenger side, sending both of them a few yards further down the bridge in a shower of sparks. The first of the armored trucks slows momentarily in surprise, and you take the opportunity to launch yourself at the back of the truck, grabbing onto a handhold and pulling yourself flush to the metal. 

“Swallowtail, what the hell are you doing?” Sam’s voice comes in through your comms, sharp with either anger or panic, you can’t tell which. You don’t answer, because– well, you’re not sure what you’re doing. You don’t have Bucky and his metal arm on hand to actually rip into the truck, so there’s no way you’re getting in. You push the thought to the side for the moment, using the handholds studding the back of the truck to climb up until you can see over the top of the truck. 

“Oh fuck, they’re not gonna stop,” you say aloud, watching as the truck continues to barrel directly towards the escalades. The cars have emptied of their passengers already, black-suited men with guns like ants across the asphalt. You loop your arm through the handhold and hunch over the top of the truck, hoping to shit that you won’t be thrown off at this speed. The truck bursts through the wrecked escalades without losing hardly any speed. Once past, you unholster your own gun, turning around and aiming a few shots at the ants; you cap one in the chest and he goes down in a splash of red across his white shirt. The rest of the convoy blocks the way before any of the others can aim a gun at you. 

But that doesn’t stop the lackey in the passenger seat of the armored truck behind you from leaning out of his window and training his pistol on your head. You know it’s about to come down to who can shoot the other more accurately from a moving vehicle first. The wind whips, stinging and frigid, at your face as you do the best you can to aim one-handed and swaying, hanging halfway off the back of a truck. Not exactly the best spot you’ve ever been in. 

The lackey gets in a shot, which pings off the metal above your head. You grunt, taking a shot at him in return, which smashes through the windshield and embeds in the seat upholstery. 

Before he can try again, a figure swoops down like some kind of vengeful pterodactyl. Joaquín’s wings pass a shadow over the convoy, blocking out the bridge’s bright lights. He grabs two fistfuls of the lackey’s jacket, ripping him easily from the truck and letting him drop to the road like so much discarded trash. He lands on top of your truck next, impossibly steady against its speed, and offers down a hand to you. In the swatching light-dark-light as you pass beneath the first street lights of high town, he looks incredibly like some kind of gallant knight in shining green armor. 

You grab his hand and allow him to pull you up. Immediately, he sets you down in front of him, his body and outstretched wings between you and anyone who might try to take a shot at you. 

“I had that handled,” you huff. 

You can see his grin through his stupid orange visor. “Totally, totally.” 

You take advantage of the relative safety of Joaquín’s wing shield to assess the situation; hanging off the back of a truck wasn’t exactly conducive to knowing anything that was going on. In the minute or so that elapsed, the armored convoy seemed to have converged around one of the escalades, herding it up through the streets of Hightown. 

“Fuck,” you say thoughtfully. “Cap, Barnes, these trucks aren’t our target. It’s the escalade between them– they’re trying to protect it.” 

“I see it. We need to isolate it from the convoy,” Sam’s voice rings through your comms. 

“Ahead of you,” Bucky answers, with a not-miniscule amount of groaning and metal-meeting-flesh sounds lurking in the background of his voice. 

“Watch my six?” you ask, turning to Joaquín. 

“Always,” he answers, a question in the furrow of his brow. 

“Great,” you say and turn, jumping off the side of the truck. 

Maria Hill gave you a gift once. Just once, in the roughly two years you knew her. Back when you were still tightly-wound and spasmodic, a wind-up doll of a girl. You hadn’t quite gotten the trick of being a person yet, and being comfortable around a team was a long way off. Hill knew it, and she also knew there was one way she might be able to reach across the chasm between her reality and your own and make you feel a little less tense. 

You don’t take the vibranium knife out often, but it’s always sheathed on you for moments like this. Angling for the roof of the escalade, you draw it out of its sheath in one swift motion and grip it in both hands, landing the blade with as much force as you can muster on the sunroof. Bulletproof glass is well and good, but it’s nothing against vibranium, and your knife goes through it like butter, anchoring you to the car’s roof even as you slide back and forth on your stomach with the movement through the streets. 

“Hey–! What’s the plan here?” Joaquín’s voice comes through your comms. He’s hovering in the air between the truck and the escalade, keeping pace with both vehicles, as though he dove after you. 

“I’m getting inside this damn car,” you respond, grunting with the effort of pulling the knife out of the glass and stabbing it back into one of the weak, spider-webbed spots before you can go sliding off the back of the car. You repeat this a few times until the glass is sufficiently compromised, and then use the butt of the handle to knock the glass inward. 

“This is a terrible idea,” Joaquín says, landing on the roof beside you. The weight of his armor sends a shudder through the car.

“I’m getting that damn device,” you tell him, maneuvering until you get a grip on Joaquín’s leg and pull yourself into a sitting position, angling your feet at the mouth of the smashed-in sunroof. 

“Stay out there, or I’ll shoot!” A tense, accented voice calls from inside the car. 

“Do you promise?” you yell back. Joaquín gives you a look, gesturing as if to say see? You turn to him, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Hey, I promised the old man that nobody will die on this op, and that’s still true. Trust me on this.” 

“Fine,” Joaquín says, though you can still feel the hesitance in his voice. “I’ll be up here, and you call if you need me.” 

You nod and slide yourself in through the sunroof, dropping low to the floor of the interior as soon as you do. A shot rings out above your head, lodging into the upholstery of the back row of seats. Keeping yourself low, you lunge to the side, pinning the gunman to his seat. He fights back, but his movements are sloppy, panicked. Someone in the higher ranks of the Golden Diadem, if you had to hazard a guess. Not one that usually needs to use his gun; he has lackeys for that. Probably used to have to get his hands dirty, but years separate him now from that version of himself. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have to face a threat head on. 

Getting the gun from him is easy. Instead of taking out your own, you point his gun back at his pallid, fearful face. The driver pins you through the rearview mirror, fury spitting in his eyes. He keeps one hand on the wheel but the other is clearly on his piece, hidden out of sight. 

“Make one fuckin’ move and I shoot him in the forehead,” you promise. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, but he doesn’t move either. Clearly, the man he’s chauffeuring around is too important to lose to what most likely looks like an ambush of random thieves. You scan the interior of the car quickly. Beside the driver and his man, there’s only one other thing inside: a shining metal briefcase lying on the seat next to the guy. You snatch it up with your free hand.

Joaquín’s helmeted head pops over the top of the sunroof, clearly alarmed by what you just said. You’d forgotten, momentarily, that the comms were on still. “Alright, that’s enough of that.” 

“Take this, bird boy,” you tell him, thrusting the briefcase upward. He grabs it immediately, the silver rectangle disappearing up onto the roof. 

“Okay, you next. C’mon,” he says, reaching his hand back down. You give one last glance toward the driver and the sickly green Golden Diadem operant, before tossing the man’s gun up onto the roof and bracing your hands on either side of the hole you made, hoisting yourself up. Stray glass scrapes along the inside of your arm at your hasty movement, and you hiss at the sting of pain. Once you’ve half clambered out yourself, you allow Joaquín to pull you the rest of the way onto the roof. He had evidently clipped the briefcase to an attachment on his hip, and you felt a flutter of satisfaction. You’d done it, and now you could get the fuck out of this place. 

“Shit’s getting too hot, we gotta go,” Joaquín says. This time, he doesn’t wait for you to attach yourself to him, simply scoops you up around the waist and launches himself into the air. 

– 

The sun is up by the time the four of you make it back to your flat in Lowtown. It had been a whole thing: Sam insisted that he and Joaquín couldn’t just fly you back to Lowtown on account of Madripoor being more awake at night than it ever was during the day, and you had to concede him the point. But the workaround had been stashing duffel bags in some rotted out boathouse along the shore a quarter mile or so from the bridge, with civilian clothes for all of you. The clothes were musty and damp from the briney air by the time you made it to them, and you all still looked conspicuous toting around two duffel bags stuffed with the elements of Sam and Joaquín’s suits. The saving grace was that people carrying around strange, lumpy bags is kind of par for the course for Madripoor. 

The walk through Lowtown was hell, even though your flat isn’t all that far from the bridge. The excitement of the night had taken a lot out of you– more than you thought it had, until your adrenaline started to crash. 

You’re exhausted and aching as you stumble through the door of the flat, wanting nothing more than to  make a beeline for your bed. Sam and Bucky wrestle the duffel bags through the door, Bucky’s metal arm doing the heavy lifting of the one you guys had managed to squeeze the silver briefcase into. The pair dump the bags unceremoniously on the dining table, but nobody makes a move to unzip them. 

“Man, what a night,” Sam says, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“Have you been bleeding this whole time?” Joaquín asks from beside you. It takes a few seconds too long to realize that he’s talking to you, and only then do you remember the glass scraping against your forearm. You lift up the offending appendage to find an alarming swathe of rivulets of blood in varying stages of dryness down the length of your arm. The wound is a couple inches in length and thankfully seems rather shallow, though it is still languidly oozing blood. 

“Well, I suppose I have been, yes,” you say, turning to look at him. Joaquín’s dark eyes are slightly wide with alarm, which doesn’t fade from his features in the face of your nonchalant response. 

“That needs to be cleaned right away,” he says, pointing to your arm. “We’ve been marinating in a whole host of water germs for, like, two hours.” 

You have a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, I’ll scrub it in the shower. Good as new.” 

Joaquín fixes you with an unimpressed glare that reminds you all too much of your own favored facial expression. “Let me help.”

You hesitate, wanting more than anything to dismiss the whole business. You’ve had nastier wounds in the field before by far, which also did not get cleaned and bandaged in a timely manner in half the cases. You’re still alive to tell the tale. 

“Let the kid help you while we work on busting open this case,” Bucky calls decisively from the dining table, half way through pulling the silver briefcase out of the duffle bag. He fixes you with a look over the backs of Sam and Joaquín’s head that does the job of reminding you about everything the two of you had talked about yesterday evening, or a thousand years ago. 

“Alright, alright,” you concede, allowing yourself to be herded down the hall and into the bathroom by Joaquín. It’s a cramped fit, and the buzz of the bad lightbulb pierces you with a headache almost immediately. 

“First aid is under the sink,” you tell him, and he nods gratefully. You have to suppress a laugh at the sight of him trying to fold his muscular body down into the space between the sink and the tub. He pulls back the little curtain beneath the sink and snaps up the red box wedged in between pipes and bottles of soap. He sets it precariously on the thin edge of the sink and clicks it open, before turning back to you. 

“Sit,” he orders, and you comply, perching on the lid of the toilet. His hand is calloused and warm and impossibly gentle when it cradles your wrist, bringing your bloody forearm closer to his face. 

“You’re lucky, this isn’t too nasty,” he says after a quick examination. With one hand still cased around your wrist, he uses his free hand to grab a rag and run it under some cold water from the tap. 

“I don’t usually make such rookie mistakes, for the record,” you respond, trying for humor. It’s true, though– a rucked up sleeve and the vulnerable expanse of your skin against glass, all of it is just dumb, and you still can’t believe you were so careless. He’s right, you really are lucky it’s not any worse than it is. 

“Were you a little distracted?” he asks, mouth stretching into a shit-eating grin. The rag rasps against your skin, clearing away flakes of dried blood, as you glare up at him. 

“We needed to make a quick getaway, if you’ll recall.”

“Mm. I recall some other things, too.” The stupid grin fades into something smaller, more real. 

“Yeah, so do I,” you hum. “Thanks for having my back out there.” 

Joaquín shrugs. “S’what we do. You know, on a team. Not so bad, is it?” 

You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Joaquín puts the rag aside and grabs an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit. He rips open the packet with his teeth and takes it to your wound with practiced precision. You hiss at the sting, and Joaquín absentmindedly rubs his thumb across the red, irritated skin of your forearm. The tiny, careless comfort sends your heart stumbling over itself. He doesn’t even look at you as he does it, like it’s nothing. Like such small acts of care are common and expected in his life and for the people around him. The thought floors you. 

Sam’s head pops into the bathroom as Joaquín is rummaging in the kit for a correctly sized bandage. 

“You guys are gonna want to come out here,” he says, his brows drawn and serious. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, fighting the urge to shoot immediately to your feet and directly into Joaquín, standing as close to you as he is. 

“We got something in that briefcase, but it’s not what we’ve been looking for.” 

[dervampireprince]

so i've been coding a website

home of: the dervampireprince fanart museum, prince's art gallery, a masterlist of resources for making websites and list of web communities, and more!

[18+, minors dni (this blog is 18+ and the art gallery and art museum pages on my site have some 18+ only artworks)]

littlevampire . neocities . org (clickable link in pinned post labelled 'website')

if you don't follow me on twitch or aren't in my discord, you might not know i've been coding my own website via neocities since june 2024. it's been a big labour of love, the only coding i'd done before is a little html to customize old tumblr themes, so i've learnt a lot and i've been having so much fun. i do link to it on my carrds but not everyone will know that the icon of a little cat with a wrench and paintbrush is the neocities logo, or even what neocities is.

neocities is a free website builder, but not like squarespace or wix that let you build a website from a template with things you can drag in, it's all done with html and css code (and you can throw in javascript if you wanna try hurting your brain /hj). i love the passion people have for coding websites, for making their own websites again in defiance of social medias becoming less customisable and websites looking boring and the same as each other. people's neocities sites are so fun to look through, looking at how they express themselves, their art galleries, shrines to their pets or favourite characters or shows or toys or places they've been.

why have i been making a website this way?

well i used to love customising my tumblr theme back when clicking on someone's username here took you to their tumblr website, their username . tumblr . com link that you could edit and customise with html code. now clicking a username takes you to their mobile page view, a lot of users don't even know you can have a website with tumblr, the feature to have a site became turned off by default, and i've heard from some users that they might have to pay to unlock that feature.

i've always loved the look of old geocities and angelfire websites, personalised sites, and i've grown tired of every social media trying to look the same as each other, remove features that let users customise their profiles and pages more. and then i found out about neocities.

are you interested in making a site too?

neocities is free, though you can pay to support them. there is no ads, no popups, they have no ai tool scraping their sites, no tos that will change to suddenly stop allow 18+ art. unlike other website hosters, neocities does have a sort of social media side where you do have a profile and people can follow you and leave comments on your site and like your updates, but you can ignore this if you want, or use it to get to know other webmasters.

to quote neocities "we are tired of living in an online world where people are isolated from each other on boring, generic social networks that don't let us truly express ourselves. it's time we took back our personalities from these sterilized, lifeless, monetized, data mined, monitored addiction machines and let our creativity flourish again."

i'd so encourage anyone interested to try making a website with neocities. w3schools is an excellent place to start learning coding, and there are free website templates you can copy and paste and use (my site is built off two different free codes, one from fujoshi . nekoweb . org and the other from sadgrl's free layout builder tool).

your site can be for anything:

a more fun and interactive online business card (rather than using carrd.co or linktree)

a gallery of your art/photos/cosplays/etc

a blog

webshrines to your a character, film, song, game, toy, hobby, your pet - anything can be a shrine!

a catalogue/database/log of every film you've watched, every place you've visited, birds you've seen, plushies you own, every blinkie gif you have saved, your ocs and stories, etc

hosting a webcomic

a fanwiki/fansite that doesn't have endless ads like fandom . com does (i found a cool neocities fansite for rhythm game series pop'n music and it's so thorough, it even lists all the sprites and official art for every character)

i follow a website that just reviews every video game based on whether or not it has a frog in it, if the frog is playable, if you can be friends with it. ( frogreview . neocities . org )

the only html i knew how to write before starting is how to paragraph and bold text. and now i have a whole site! and i'm still working on new stuff for it all the time.

i just finished making a page on my website called 'explore the web'. this page lists everything you might need to know when wanting to make or decorate your website. it lists:

other neocities sites i think are cool and i'm inspired by, check them out for more ideas of what your site could look like and contain!

website building resources

coding help and tutorials

free website html code layouts you can use if you don't want too start coding from scratch

places to find graphics and decorative images for your site (transparent background pngs, pixels, favicons, stamps, blinkies, buttons, userboxes, etc)

image generators for different types of buttons and gifs (88x31 buttons, tiny identity buttons, heart locket open gifs, headpat gifs)

widgets and games and interactive elements you can add to your site (music players, interactive pets like gifypet and tamanotchi, hit counters, games like pacman and crosswords, guestbooks and chatboxes, etc)

web manifestos, guides, introductions and explanations of webmastering and neocities (some posts made by other tumblr users here are what made me finally want to make my own site and discover how too)

art tools, resources and free drawing programs

web communities! webrings, cliques, fanlistings, pixel clubs (pixel art trades) and more!

other fun sites that didn't fit in the other categories like free sheet music sites, archives, egotistical.goat (see a tumblr users audio posts/reblogs as a music playlist), soul void (a wonderful free to play video game i adore), an online omnichord you can play, and more.

i really hope the 'explore the web' page is helpful, it took three days to track down every link and find resources to add.

and if you want to check out my site there's more than just these pages. like i said in the beginning, i recently finished making:

the dervampireprince fanart museum

every piece of fanart i've received (unless the sender asked me to keep it private) has been added to this museum and where possible links back to the original artists post of that art (a lot the art was sent to me via discord so i can't link to the original post). every piece of fanart sent to me now will be added on their unless you specifically say you don't want it going on there. there's also links to my fanworks guide on there and how to send me fanart.

other pages on my site

about me (including favourite media, quizzes, comfort characters, kins, and more)

art gallery (art i've made, sorted by month)

graphics (so far it's just stamps i've made but plan to remake this section of my site)

media log (haven't started the 2025 one yet, but a log of all films, tv, writing, music, theatre, fandoms, characters and ships i got into in 2024)

silly web pets

shrines

site map

update log

my shrines so far:

i have ones for lucifer from supernatural, sam winchester from supernatural, charuca minifigures (arcade prizes i wanted as a kid that i'm trying to finish collecting as an adult), my waifuroulette discord tcg collection. my masterlist of every lgbt+ marvel character is a wip. i love making each shrine look different and suit the character/fandom/thing the shrine is about. and then there's also:

the european musical section

i ramble about them a lot and it's no surprise there's multiple shrines for them. i fell in love with german musical theatre in 2020 and that expanded in being interested in all non-english language musical theatre and trying to spread the word of it and how they deserve to be as known as english-language musicals. one musical in particular, elisabeth das musical, is my biggest special interest so expect a very detailed shrine about that one day.

so far this part of the site includes

'enter the theatre' an interactive web theatre where you choose a ticket and that musical will play on the stage (click a ticket and the embedded youtube video for that musical will appear on the stage and play. i dealt with javascript for the first time to bring the vision i had for this page alive, it might be slow but i hope enjoyable)

elisabeth das musical webshrine [not made yet]

tanz der vampire webshrine [not made yet, might abandon the idea]

my favourite european musicals [not made yet]

a masterlist of european musicals [a wip, only two musicals listed so far, i am listing every musical and every production they've had, this was a word document i kept for a long time that i always wanted to share somehow and this page is how i'll do it. there's no other list for european musicals out there so i guess it's up to me as always /lh]

the future for my site

i will update my art gallery, the fanart museum, my media log and other collections as often as i can. there's so many more pages i want to add including:

profiles for my ocs

finish my european musical masterlist

finish my 'every marvel lgbt+ character' masterlist (i have no love for marvel or disney's lgbt+ representation nor are all of these characters good representation and a lot are very minor characters, but for some reason i have gotten hyperfixated on this topic a few times so here comes a masterlist)

make shrines for loki (marvel), ares (hades), my sylvanian families collection, vocaloid (and/or vocaloid medleys), my plushie collection, pullip dolls

make a 'page not found' page

and i have one big plan to essentially make a site within a site, and make a website for my monster boy band ocs. but make it as if it was a real band, an unfiction project (think like how welcome home's website portrays welcome home as if it was a real show). this site would have pages for the band members, their albums, merch and maybe a pretend shop, and a fake forum where you could see other characters in the story talking and click on their profiles to find out more about them. and then once that's all done i want to start posting audios about the characters and then people can go to the website to find out more about them. that's my big plan anyway. i hope that sounds interesting.

i also want to make an effort to try and join some website communities. be brave and apply for some webrings and fanlistings, and make some pixel art and join some of the amazing pixel clubs out there.

but yeah, that's my site, that's neocities. i hope that was interesting. i hope it encourages people to make their own site, or at least look at other's small websites and explore this part of the internet. and if you go and check out mine feel free to drop a message in the guestbook on the homepage, or follow me on neocities if you have/make an account.

[outbreakperfected]

Summary of the current state of the Chess/AION ARG from both a real life and lore perspective as of 9:19pm PST below the cut, for any guardians interested in catching up. Copy pasted from Discord from a few hours ago but there's been little progress on the state of the board so. Sorry if it's a bit hard to read.

After compiling together a bunch of people's different chess boards they got from completing a game in Eris' throne world that can be done once you collected all the chess pieces in the world that spawned last week, a bunch of streamers were able to piece together a QR code that led to the following site: http://aion-archives.net/ If you complete the puzzle, which is 27 weird chess boards you have to solve, you will be able to interact with a bowl of water that says "the water reveals" and it will give you a four number code (Signal Frequency x----) from 0001 to 4096, along with a custom chess board that you should take a photo of. If you plug in your chess board to any kind of chess site and receive the chess notation or FEN number, you can go to AION and input the following: your frequency number, and then the FEN number minus a few pieces. This will give you one of three things: Green text saying match confirmed, blue text saying data corrupted, or purple text saying quantum spin failed. The last one means you input your FEN notation wrong, while the first two mean you successfully put in the FEN notation. Meanwhile, people are also piecing together each unique board generated to match a frequency by their borders, and lining them into smaller chess boards assembled out of either red or grey tiles. By finding the piece in that bigger chess board created by the smaller chess board that would create some certain checkmate condition, this piece can be plugged into the in-game chessboard and if you complete a square successfully pillars around the arena will light up. They have the middle square done as of right now.

A handful of numbers on the website from frequency signals, as well as a bunch of other random dates (typically in coordination with stuff to do in either Destiny/Bungie or actual real life chess history) will spit out little bits of lore from the terminal. AION stands for the Apollo Intertemporal Observation Network, and we previously heard a mention of an "AION Initiative" back in some of the dialogue you can unlock from Vesper's Host by progressing through the puzzles in the questline. This was mentioned alongside the likes of Rasputin and Soteria, who we know are BrayTech AI. This fact also came to us from Astraea, who herself is a BrayTech AI. It is also very likely that the corrupted data outputs in some way link to the Corrupted Puppeteer, which is a failed BrayTech AI attempt to simulate a Vex Mind that possesses the ability to jump across various hosts and was able to construct some kind of neural network hivemind amongst House Salvation refugees on the Vesper Station.

A dialogue piece that only unlocks once the questline is finished actually reveals the message that was received through the Anomaly, and it is essentially that of someone named "Lodi" communicating that they are adrift. It is very likely this person is connected to AION. Additional texts you can receive from the website are prompts about an experiment starting today, traveling to another star, and a bunch of shit relating to astrophysics. If you bug the terminal too much, it will literally IP ban you which has happened to some unfortunate people in the twitch chat.

What is most interesting is that the code for the chess puzzle was cracked by uncorrupting FEN notations held behind the following set of numbers: 10071956 (I believe). This date aligns with some super important game in chess history, but importantly, you can see it be one of the dates counted down on the satellite in the short Edge of Fate teaser trailer.

and basically that is what we have so far

also if you input bungie related dates you can get easter eggs like pictures of a chess board made out of master chiefs

Right now a LOT of dialogue suggests stuff about jumping through space and time, which aligns with both what we know about the Nine and how the whole ARG is basically a game of 4D chess.

[messyzoranablog]

Zorana's Guide To The Poke Classic Network!

Do you want to connect your DS Pokemon games to the internet long after Nintendo shut down their servers? Do you wish to trade and battle with your internet friends who play the gen 4 and 5 Pokemon games? Do you have a desire to watch and upload battle videos like you used to years ago?

If you said yes to any of these questions then I have the thing for you!

The Poke Classic Network!

This is a fan server for Pokemon DPPT, HGSS, BW, and BW2 that's running with the help of the Kaeru WFC! Not only does it let you connect your games to the internet again, the site will let you see what Pokemon are up on the GTS for both the gen 4 and gen 5 servers!

Below is my guide on how to get this working for you so you can bring a new life to these wonderful Pokemon games. Also I thought this would be shorter but it's rather long, so under the cut it goes! Please let me know if I missed anything in here! I'll try my best to fix it if I can.

Getting Started:

Before you get connected, make sure you are using the device you plan on doing all of your online connections with! For some reason you are locked to one device for this stuff and using another one will wipe your PalPad, and assign you a new friend code. Since what's available in the GTS search function is based on SEEN Pokemon the most reliable way to get particular pokemon (without marking everything as seen via cheating) would be trading them from people you've registered in the PalPad.

If you only plan on using the GTS then you don't need to worry as much about this.

The Poke Classic Network works on ALL DS/3Ds systems!

I will note that the Gen 5 games are easier to set up if you're using a 3Ds since they can see and read the Wifi settings of the 3Ds and can just have the DNS swapped without additional set up.

Connecting DPPT/HGSS on all systems and BW/BW2 on the DS/DSi:

I will go over connecting via Emulator in another section, this section and the next one is for if you're PHYSICAL HARDWARE.

What you'll need:

The console of choice

The game of choice, preferably played to the point where you can access the GTS for testing purposes. --- In DPPT you can find the GTS building in Jubilife City. --- In HGSS you can find the WFC building in Goldenrod City. --- In BW/BW2 you can access the GTS in the top part of every Pokecenter. --- I don't remember when exactly the GTS is unlocked for the games unfortunately.

Some way to create a Wifi network point with a compatible WEP (password type) or just no password. --- The easiest way I've found is just using a hotspot without a password. --- I know some modern routers will let you create an extra network like this if you know how. I do not and it'd likely be different for each router anyways. --- There are also some programs that can make one using your computer. I've used one for a bit before it locked what I needed behind a paywall.

What to do:

The first step is setting up the connection!

Start up the Wifi network point so it'll show up on your system.

I recommend using a hotspot that doesn't have a password on it. Make sure you change the bandwidth to 2.4 GHz, since 5 5 GHz doesn't seem to work. DO NOT PUBLICLY OPEN YOUR HOTSPOT IN A PUBLIC PLACE! You do not want someone deciding to eat up your data while you're trading pokemon, so only do this in a place you know is safe to do so, like at home or at a friend's place.

Once you've done that you'll want to open your game and go to the Nintendo WFC Settings. The button will look like one of these depending on the game you're playing:

This will take you to the DS wifi settings that are saved to the cart!

Next you'll want to tap on the big blue button which will take you to this screen.

You may or may not have connections here already if you've played before Nintendo's servers shut down. Erase them now if you do as they will no longer work. Then you'll want to tap the None button for Connection 1.

I'll be demonstrating using Connection 2 myself, but stick to the first connection.

Tap on the Search for access point button. This will bring up a list of nearby connections that your system can see. You'll want to tap on the one you started earlier. It will test the connection and the boot you back to the screen with the big blue button. Tap the big blue button and then the Ready button that's now showing up for the first connection.

Now scroll down to the very bottom and turn off Auto-obtain DNS and change the primary DNS to 178.62.43.212. You can also change the secondary DNS to the same one as well or keep it all 0s.

Once you're done it should look something like this:

Save the settings, close out of the Wifi connections menu, start your save, and try connecting to the GTS!

If you connect to the GTS then congrats, you are now able to use the Poke Classic Network! If it doesn't work the first try don't worry and try again. You can also swap the secondary DNS to the other one you weren't using and try again that way.

Connecting BW/BW2 on the 3Ds/2Ds:

This one is super simple and doesn't require any additional set up! Sorry I don't have any pictures for this one atm. I may edit this to add a couple later.

What you'll need:

Game of choice

Console of choice

What to do:

Open the internet settings on your 3Ds and tap on Connection settings.

Tap on a connection you know is working, tap Change Settings, then go to the next page.

Tap on DNS and tap No, then tap Detailed Setup. Change the primary DNS to 178.62.43.212 and either keep the secondary one as all 0s or use the same DNS address you put in the primary DNS slot.

Save your settings and go start your game, then try connecting to the GTS.

If you connect to the GTS then congrats, you are now able to use the Poke Classic Network! If it doesn't work the first try don't worry and try again. You can also swap the secondary DNS to the other one you weren't using and try again that way.

Connecting any DS Pokemon game using MelonDS (emulator):

This method will let you connect to the Poke Classic Network if you don't have the physical hardware or can't connect your system to the internet for any reason and know how to back up your save to your computer.

What you'll need:

The MelonDS emulator [Link] --- Desume doesn't have Wifi functionality so you'll need to move your saves over if that is your primary DS emulator. --- If the latest version doesn't work for some reason try again with the second newest one.

Game of choice

What to do:

The steps are nearly identical to the first section once you have the emulator running! Instead of using your own connection though you'll be using the one MelonDS makes for you, so there's no need to worry about finding a way to make one yourself.

The access point will look like this when searching for an access point:

[spartancommander-2874]

@bigmouthgenius

This was supposed to be a simple smash and grab. Get the blueprints of the place, locate the objective, nab it and run.

In and out.

Easy enough, right?

Nope.

There was a security program that had been running passively in the background that not even the team’s AI had detected while pilfering the system and she had Forerunner code built directly into her matrix. Alarms began to blare loudly, alerting the Prometheans of offending intruders, once the data left its protective, holographic casing. Their fireteam leader quickly placed a hand on the terminal and green pixels flowed up her gauntleted arm and into a slot on the back of her helmet indicating their AI had come home. Without another word, the trio of Spartan IVs took off, wanting to be as far away from this place as physically possible.

Red blips began pinging off their motion trackers during their flight through the ancient complex and the digitized roars of anger echoed off down the halls. Their AI, Noesis, was still tapped into the local network and began to shut down the massive gray-white doors to cut off their pursuers or at the very least slow them down.

Evac was well on the other side of the facility in the form of a D79-TC Pelican dropship. Their pilot, Spartan Kent, had already activated the autopilot, calling the dropship in closer as the LZ was going to be hot by the time they got to it. A pair of beam turrets popped up in front of bulkhead doors at the end of one hall and began firing white-hot lasers at the fleeing super soldiers, forcing them off their current path and to take a hard right down another hallway to avoid being melted down to slag.

A Promethean Knight had sprung forward seemingly out of nowhere toward the Spartans as they attempted to dodge the turret fire and had nearly pinned their XO to the wall with its gun when it received a shotgun shell to the side of its head. With the creature down, they continued onward with their flight.

“Finally! We’re almost out of here!” came the Spartan to their XO’s left. Her IFF transponder marked her as Cordova, Caterina A.

“About time. I think we’ve really riled up the locals. Kent,” their fireteam leader replied then glanced to the right at their other squad mate. “Kent, once we get out, get that pelican ready for transport. We need to get the hell out of here ASAP before they call in for more reinforcements. Last thing we need is for the Storm Covies clogging up the air.”

“Way ahead of you, ma’am!” came her companion’s reply.

Just as they reached the last stretch, however, a Promethean had teleported meters away from the exit and brought an Incineration Cannon up to bear. The weapon began to charge, red light glowing like death. Right as the thing fired, their commander cried out, “Move it!”, before diving out of the way herself. The creature must’ve been in the local network as well as it was fighting for control over the doorways and cut the commander off from the other two. She rolled up onto her feet just in time to jerk to the side to avoid another blast.

“Commander?! Auri-?”

“Hey, you still-?”

“Get outside! I’ll meet you at the LZ. This place is going to be crawling with Knights shortly. I don’t want them bringing down our bird before we even get out of here,” she called back over their COMMs.

Spartan Kent paused briefly before responding so his counterpart took over. “Yes ma’am! Noesis is still feeding us a map of the area and there’s another exit out here. We’ll see you outside.”

“Copy!”

The Knight attempted to fire on the Spartan once more and just before it released the trigger, a well thrown grenade took it out of its misery. Reloading her weapons and taking a quick stock of what was leftover, Noesis, the team’s AI, wormed her way past the defenses the Knight had thrown up and unlocked one doorway, placing a waypoint that led to the exit on the Spartan’s HUD. The commander took off and was forced to double back twice due to an influx of hostiles. Out of nowhere, a brilliant flash of blue and black lit up a doorway to the Four’s left. Hovering there, of its own volition apparently, was a portal. She was really backed into a corner right now, with Prometheans encroaching on her location. The construct hiding within her helmet was already following her line of thought before the woman even voiced her plan.

“Commander, as much as I’d like to be out of here, we don’t know where that portal leads,” Noesis protested.

“Anywhere’s better than here. They’re already starting to wrest control from you and you’ve already transferred over the data to Roland, right?” Auri had already started to back up toward the swirling vortex. Sure enough, another entrance on the far side of the room had opened up, revealing a mass of very angry Promethean Knights who thought they had the human cornered.

“Yes but…” the AI said, her sentence petering off. Oh hell. Her Spartan had already made up her mind and there was no changing it. “I’m notifying the others and I don’t think these Knights are going to wait much longer!” Moments before the Forerunner constructs could pounce, the Spartan dove into the portal’s center and her world went black and the machine shut off.

---

She could feel her body being spun this way and that. Her skin being tugged hard off her bones as she fell end over end. Or so it seemed.

Auri’s shields flared up as an unknown source drained the batteries until they cracked and died for a few seconds, the annoying alarm blaring right in her ear. Her equilibrium was way off and it felt as though she remained within the portal network for far longer than before although she couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she had taken the plunge.

Without warning, a hole suddenly opened up and spat her out into the dirt rather unceremoniously. The Spartan rolled to a stop, head spinning violently and she swallowed down the urge to throw up. Any attempt at getting to her feet were met with major protest as her vision swam sickeningly. Shutting her eyes tightly against the light filtering through her faceplate, the commander took in a few slow, deep breaths before rising up to her knees carefully. Her stomach was still her throat and her head throbbed something awful but she was alive and surprisingly in one piece. A few meters away from her, the portal floated and seemed to shudder. Had the Spartan not been paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught that slight waver that indicated something was off.

“Okay, good. You’re alright,” came her AI’s soft voice. “We may have a tail. Prometheans may have followed us and… I don’t think that portal is going to last much longer. We need to get clear of the blast radius and into cover.” Noesis sounded almost distracted and for a second, the Four couldn’t pin down what had caught her attention.

“Great… You don’t have to tell me twice,” Auri replied, turned around to get moving and stopped.

Oh.

That’s why.

They weren’t on Requiem anymore.

[the-most-humble-blog]

The Great College Lie: Why Degrees Don’t Mean Success

For years, we’ve been fed the same script: Go to college, get a degree, and the world will roll out a red carpet to your success. Sounds simple, right? Except, for many, that “red carpet” feels more like a never-ending hamster wheel of debt, underemployment, and job applications that go straight into the void. So, what happened? Did college lie to us, or did we buy into a dream that was never designed to include everyone?

Let’s dissect The Great College Lie—why the degree doesn’t guarantee success, and what you can do to thrive despite the system.

1. The Promise vs. Reality

The Promise:

College is marketed as the “great equalizer.” They told us education would unlock the American Dream: a steady career, financial security, and a house with a white picket fence. And sure, for some, it worked. But for many others, here’s the reality:

The Reality:

Student Loan Debt: The average college graduate in the U.S. owes $37,000+ in student loans, which can take decades to pay off.

Underemployment: Over 40% of college graduates work jobs that don’t require a degree (hello, barista jobs with a philosophy major).

No Guarantees: That diploma doesn’t protect you from layoffs, market crashes, or a rapidly evolving job market that now demands experience over credentials.

2. Why Degrees Don’t Equal Success

1. It’s About Who You Know, Not What You Know

Networking often outranks education. Studies have shown that up to 70% of jobs are never even posted publicly—they’re filled through connections. Translation? You can have a degree from Harvard, but Chad with zero qualifications might get the job because his dad plays golf with the CEO.

2. Degrees are Losing Their Edge

A bachelor’s degree used to set you apart. Now? It’s almost like having a high school diploma. Everyone has one, which means the competition is fiercer, and employers are raising their standards to include master’s degrees and certifications.

3. The Skills Gap is Real

A piece of paper doesn’t always mean you have the skills employers need. A 2021 survey revealed that 46% of employers feel recent grads aren’t prepared for the workforce. Critical thinking, problem-solving, and real-world experience often trump textbook knowledge.

3. The Student Loan Scam

Let’s call it what it is: a scam. The system was designed to profit off your dreams. Here’s how it works:

Colleges Overpromise: They lure students with flashy marketing, luxurious dorms, and vague promises of a “bright future.”

Loans Trap You: The government and private lenders make it easy to borrow, but repayment terms keep you financially enslaved for decades.

Inflated Costs: College tuition has skyrocketed over 1200% since 1980, far outpacing wage growth. So, you’re borrowing more but earning less.

4. “But College is Still Worth It, Right?”

It depends. For some fields—like medicine, law, and engineering—a degree is non-negotiable. But for many careers, it’s becoming clear that skills and experience matter more than credentials.

Here’s the Shift:

Trade Schools and Certifications: Electricians, plumbers, and tech professionals often earn just as much (or more) than degree holders—with a fraction of the debt.

Freelance and Entrepreneurial Skills: The internet has opened doors to self-taught careers in writing, design, coding, and more.

On-the-Job Learning: Companies like Google, Tesla, and IBM no longer require degrees for many positions—they value skills instead.

5. So, What Should You Do Instead?

1. Learn Marketable Skills

Platforms like Coursera, Udemy, and Khan Academy offer affordable (sometimes free) courses on coding, graphic design, marketing, and more.

The ROI on these courses often far exceeds a traditional degree.

2. Network, Network, Network

Attend local events, join LinkedIn groups, and connect with mentors in your field.

Remember: Jobs often go to those with connections—not just qualifications.

3. Embrace Lifelong Learning

The job market evolves constantly. Staying ahead means continually updating your skills, whether through certifications or self-study.

4. Question the Narrative

Don’t blindly follow the “go to college” script. Ask yourself: What do I want to do, and is college the best path to get there?

6. The Humble Truth About Success

Here’s the real kicker: Success isn’t tied to a degree—it’s tied to your grit, adaptability, and willingness to hustle smart.

Degrees can help, but they aren’t the golden ticket we were promised.

Building real-world skills, learning to market yourself, and forming relationships will often get you farther than any diploma can.

What They Don’t Want You to Know

The Great College Lie isn’t just about the myth of guaranteed success—it’s about the systems that profit from your hopes and dreams. College can be a valuable tool, but it’s not the only path to success.

The sooner we stop glorifying degrees and start valuing skills, effort, and innovation, the better off we’ll all be. In the meantime, let’s admit one thing: We were all sold a dream. But it’s not too late to wake up and rewrite the story.

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSOM SHADE

Chapter 05

Bitter Hearts and Burning Ashes

What do you want from me?

Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering?

What do you know?

- ( The song of the Chapter is ''Bury a friend" by Billie Eilish)

"You are going to work for me."

His cold eyes fix on her scowling ones. 

"He’s gotta be fucking kidding me," Khushi scoffs while her brain processes his words. It’s atrocious.

"Excuse me."

He shrugs as if it's already decided, as if it's inevitable.

Khushi lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Wow, didn’t realize I was in the market for a new boss. Thanks for the offer though, but my calendar is pretty full."

Unbothered, he just stares at her with his arm crossed across his chest. “If he led you to me, he can lead others to me as well. I don’t want my name dragged somewhere it shouldn’t be. I want you to find him for me, " he states as if he were talking to a child.

"Why me? Don't you have an entire IT Department at your disposal?"

“I don’t want Mr. Rathore finding out before I know exactly what I’m dealing with. An attack on me is an attack on him as well."

“And you can’t buy one competent IT employee to keep his mouth shut?”

“Why would I when I can get it done for free?”

“Didn’t know the great ASR was such a cheapo,” she snaps back immediately.

A ghost of a smirk threatens to curve in the corner of his lips, the tiniest of smirks, "I am actually doing you a favour, giving you a chance to find him yourself. "

"You know Mr.Raizada, your ego’s so massive, I’m surprised it doesn’t have its own zip code or a country, maybe even a national anthem." She looks at him so matter-of-factly that it almost feels like she’s stating the obvious.

Truth be told, his faint, teasing, barely-there smirk irritates the hell out of her. She wants to wipe that off his face. "And why would I need your 'favour' to find him?" she says, making air quotes around the word 'favour'. "I can find him myself."

"Hmm, Sure you can. I assume you have access to a highly protected network, plenty of cutting-edge encrypted gadgets and a satellite feed, right?" he says, raising a finger for each. His phone beeps in his pocket, momentarily diverting his attention.

What is it about Khushi that makes a guy two times hotter to her when he talks tech?

No, Khushi. Focus.

He is a trouble,

No matter how much tech he’s talking, No matter how cool his tech is.

Her internal monologue is interrupted by a small voice in the back.

"But Khushi, he said he can give you access to a satellite."

Every neuron of her brain, every single one of them, jumps at the idea and for a brief second, every one of them just... swoons. Her inner coder is tempted to reroute the current conversation to a different stream entirely. But no, that would be reckless.

"Engrave this in your mind, Khushi. I’m only saying it once. Mr.Raizada is like a Trojan horse, an unpredictable bug. If he crashes your Central Processing Unit, no amount of trouble-shooting would help you. Remember that," she scolds herself in silence.

Mr. Raizada, oblivious to her internal struggle, remains focused on his phone, the glow illuminating his features with an aura of confidence that only heightens her frustration. Shaking her head, she contemplates her next move for a couple of minutes, torn between her better judgment and the thrill of his cool tech gadgets.

“Miss Gupta, we need to wrap this up real quick. I have a meeting to catch," he states absentmindedly while typing on his phone.

"What if I say no?"

This time, her phone beeps with an incoming message. He glances at her, arching an eyebrow as if inviting her to check it. She unlocks the screen. It's a CCTV video of her, pinned against the wall by him in his room. Her voice says, coming from the screen, "The information the bastard of a hacker stole from me. It contains various pieces of evidence against the crimes Mr. Jha and the Serpents committed. I know he sold them to you. I want them back. I worked day and night to collect all of them." Her face is clear, as is her voice.

"Eww, do the girls you take to your room know about that?"

The moment that line leaves her mouth, regret floods in. Why, brain? Why is that the first thing you choose to process about this video? It is totally beyond her comprehension. Her brain does crazy shit like that sometimes.

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eyes for a split second. If she weren’t watching so intently, she might have missed it.

"You are the only lucky girl who'd the privilege. "

Huh.

She blinks.

"Oh, please." She doesn’t hold back the eye roll this time. A wave of heat rushes to her face. She bites her lips, feeling the heat spreading up her neck. She gives herself a mental shake. The last thing she wants to speculate is what Mr. Raizada does or doesn’t do in that room, preferably nothing involving the opposite sex........Shit.

No, nothing involving sex either.

Damn it.

"Khushi, enough with the mental gymnastics," she mutters to herself. And, then... "Wait a second, how did you get my number?"

He takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather some patience, then rubs the side of his temple with his thumb. Mr.Raizada has a scar under his right eyebrow, complete with stitch marks and all. It is old, almost easy to miss. It makes him seem darker, more dangerous. It adds just the right amount of menace to his otherwise polished, meticulously crafted exterior.

"You have no idea who you're talking to, do you?"

She stares at him, unblinking.

"It’s not exactly rocket science to find a phone number these days."

"How?"

He sighs, "Mr. Mathur found it out for me. And it doesn’t hurt that I own the network company you’re using."

Of course. There are hardly any big companies in this city where Rathore Industries didn’t have a stake. Fantastic.

Khushi can tell this is somehow important to Mr. Raizada. He wouldn’t be wasting so much energy on her if it weren’t. Maybe she can spin this to her advantage.

"What do I get in return? The most that video can do is get me killed. I don't fear death."

He lets out a short chuckle, "Liar."

She glares at him and in response, he just challenges her with that condescending look on his face.

"You find him, and I'll kill him for you."

She scoffs, "I can do it myself."

"Really? How many people have you

killed?"

The "bang" of the gunshot still echoes in her head, the memory vivid. Why is everything today dragging her back to that moment? She clenches her teeth nearly grinding them down. At this rate, she might not have any left by the end of this meeting. Arnav Singh Raizade sure knows how to pull her strings. Her next words come out laced with fury,

"I can fill today's quota with you."

"Sure, be my guest.

Exasperated by his antics, she spins on her heel and begins walking, desperate to leave the scene as quickly as possible. But once again, she finds herself flat against another surface, this time, his chest. His grip is firm, bending her arms behind her back as their chests are pressed tightly together.

"When I’m talking, don’t you dare turn your back on me," he growls as his hard eyes bore into hers.

"You can't make me work for you. I don't owe you shit, Mr. Raizada. Get your hands off me."

His grip tightens. "I don’t want to touch you any more than you want to be touched."

"Really?!" she rolled her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her words. "The two times we’ve met, it’s clear how much you hate touching me. You are particularly allergic."

She wiggles. He doesn't flinch.

She squirms. He doesn't flinch.

She twists. He doesn't flinch.

Not even a damn inch.

After cursing him for a thousand deaths in her head, she lets out through her struggle, “Is pinning people to flat surfaces your favourite hobby? If it is, it’s despicable.”

He towers over her, not moving, not speaking, not even blinking. His jaw set like stone.

"You’re nothing like the women I enjoy pinning. I certainly don’t hate them."

"Well, newsflash, Sherlock, I hate you too," she fires back instantly.

"Hate is too weak a word to describe the disdain I have for you." he grits out, his lips curling into a low, feral snarl. "I despise you, "

The sheer venom in his tone makes her flinch. She blinks in disbelief, taken aback by the utter hatred in his eyes. She had expected some level of animosity, given their families' rivalry. But this is different. It feels personal.

Her glare sharpens. "Why? Just because our families are enemies? That doesn’t give you the right to misbehave with me like that.”

His arms tighten around her, drawing them even closer together. Her heart pounds as panic sets in. His eyes lock onto hers. It's dark, darker than ever, mixed with a wild unexplained hunger, that sends shivers down her spine. It’s the most untamed reaction she has ever seen on his face since their paths crossed.

He leans closer, lips almost at her ear. His voice is a rough whisper brushing against her skin. “I haven’t even begun to misbehave yet, Miss Gupta."

She gulps but refuses to let him intimidate her. After a few moments of heart-pounding silence and a stare-down battle, he lets her go and steps back, the cold mask slipping back into place as if it has never faltered, as if he hasn’t just pinned her against him, as if he isn’t the asshole he is. His eyes grew harder with each passing second as she watched him take a deep, steadying breath.

She stands on shaky legs, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes shoot daggers at him while her fists tighten. Her body trembles with barely suppressed rage. The impulse to find the magazine to load her gun and shoot him is so profound, it nearly brings her to her knees. Shaking her head, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin defiantly as their eyes lock.

"You’re a jerk. Stay the fuck away from me. I don’t give a damn why the hell he tried to frame you. Both of you can rot in hell for all I care."

This time, when she spins around toward the street, he doesn’t stop her. She slips into her car and shifts into reverse, about to pull out onto the road. She doesn't realize he has come out of the building as well. In the rearview mirror, she catches a glimpse of him, standing there with both hands tucked into his pants pockets. A picture of calm and collected. Unbothered and unfazed.

Through the glass,

His eyes lock onto hers.

His brown to her hazel.

Fire meets fire.

She sees something flicker in his dark, cold orbs while nothing crosses his face. It vanishes like a mirage in the desert, like it was never there.

She drives away. She doesn’t let herself focus on anything but the way her fingers grip the steering wheel. She doesn't let herself feel anything but the blood pounding in her ears.

And, most importantly, she doesn't let herself look back in the rearview mirror.

Not at all.

Not even a single time.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts and predictions for what comes next.

See you soon

Meanwhile, stay healthy, stay beautiful.

<previous> | <next>

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

[wikiwannabe]

Edward Nigma

Part 1: Arkham Origins/Arkham Shadow

Story:

The future Edward Nigma committed his first crime when he was still in grade school. Constantly belittled and called a moron by his abusive father, he entered a school contest to win everyone's approval; solve a puzzle and win a prize. Nashton broke in late at night and put the puzzle together as many times as possible until he had the winning solution. His father accused him of cheating and beat him for lying.

Undeterred, Edward dedicated himself to learning, and became a skilled engineering and computer hacking genius. He found employment as a member of the GCPD's Cyber Crime Division and became convinced that Gotham's long history of corruption was the result of intellectual and moral failing rather than economics. To "improve" the city's standing, Nashton used his position and skills to coordinate a large network of operatives and compile a large collection of blackmail material connected to prominent Gotham officials.

Before Christmas Eve, Nashton collected and hid extortion data files while also searching for the real identity of Batman, whom he believed was either Harvey Dent or Bruce Wayne. To maintain his cover within the GCPD, Nashton may have cultivated genuine criminal ties himself as he was soon contacted by Black Mask (or so he thought) to distract the vigilante.

Nashton, under the alias of Enigma, used an army of informants to collect a cornucopia of blackmail information about the city's most corrupt individuals. Enigma planned to release this information to the public on Christmas Day, and intended to trigger a chain reaction that would end in Gotham City's collapse.

Enigma recognized Batman as his greatest obstacle and had set up multiple layers of fail safes that included: hiding his servers behind a billboard, planting signal jammers inside the Gotham City Radio Towers that Batman had used to pilot the Batwing, set up dozens of relays across the city, employed an army of Thugs to hamper him at every turn, and had used his informants to hide all of the extortion data that he had collected all throughout Gotham.

Enigma continued to taunt Batman as he attempted to disrupt all of the radio towers, but eventually Batman succeeded. Finally, after destroying all relays, interrogating all informants, and collecting all the data packs, Batman came back to Enigma's HQ and destroyed his server. Enigma accepted temporary defeat, while he claimed that he had held onto the biggest, dirtiest secret that had put his collection of data to shame. Batman later unlocked Enigma's secret room, which revealed several items of interest: newspaper clips that indicated Enigma's research on Batman's identity (With the two main suspects that were Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent), pressure pads, cages, and one green glowing question mark that would later become the Riddler Trophy. Later, Enigma was deduced to being Edward Nashton, who was the head of the GCPD's Cyber Crime Division, by Alfred Pennyworth in a conversation with Batman in the Batcave.

A coded message within the GCPD Server and Telecom Rooms revealed that Nashton had only recently joined the organization as its Cyber Crime Division head, and revealed that he had only joined the GCPD simply to gain inside information through his newly acquired access to the entire city's infrastructure and files, which was eventually used as extortion data on all of Gotham.

The next day, just as Mayor Hamilton Hill was about to appoint Peter Grogan to replace the deceased Gillian B. Loeb as GCPD Commissioner, various media outlets received envelopes from an anonymous individual containing evidence that implicated Hill and Grogan as having ties with the Maroni Family. It was strongly implied that Enigma had been the one who was responsible, as he had yet to reveal his "biggest, dirtiest secret."

6 days of public protest ensued until New Year's Day, when Mayor Hill resigned from office in disgrace, although he had not ruled out a possible attempt at re-election during the new year. Regardless of whether he ran for office or not, his resignation meant that Grogan did not become Commissioner.

This meant that, ironically enough, Enigma's plans had a profoundly positive effect on Gotham City as they had finally revealed the corruption and conspiracy within Gotham's politics to the world at large, so the public could force their corrupt public officials out of office and appoint more ethical and principled individuals instead. Whether this was Engima's true intention was unknown, though his previous statements of wanting chaos in the streets seem to make it unlikely, as the resolution to the scandal ended on relatively peaceful terms.

Edward Nashton spent the next six months building a personal fortune with his cyber crime skills, while adopting a new persona known as the Riddler; having chosen to theme himself after riddles, after having deemed Batman one when they first made contact and with his interest in riddles becoming reignited after seeing the lengths Batman went to finding his data packs.

Some time during the week of the Independence Day Riots, Riddler snuck into Blackgate Prison and stole Carmine Falcone’s blackmail ledger from his secret vault in Maximum Security, before leaving behind a datapack that contained a message for Carmine. In the message, he gloats that he stole the incriminating evidence and added it to his collection of extortion data, and insinuated an awareness of Carmine’s relationship with his wife, Louisa, and an unnamed illegitimate progeny (possibly Catwoman, as evident by his use of feline-related vocabulary). Anticipating that Batman may find this message as well, he gloated that Batman would always be a step behind him.

Some time after the Day of Wrath, Edward legally changed his last name to Nigma as a call-back to Batman's Enigma alias for him, and would go on to become a notorious criminal in Gotham known for his riddles. In addition to his riddles, Nigma decided to create death traps to kill who he considered to be the less intelligent people of Gotham; while deeming them "entertainment" for true intellectuals who he believed could solve them easily. Riddler even hired henchmen of his own, though he secretly loathes their low intellects; despite this, he had them infiltrate various other criminal cabals to get him information on other villains. Riddler clashed with Batman numerous times over the years, with deaths abundant and his penchant for riddles aggravating the GCPD, and his obsessive need for attention making him leave riddles and clues for Batman to solve and eventually stop him.

Personality:

Edward Nigma was defined by his insanity, inferiority complex, violent behaviour and intense narcissism, likened with hubris. However, he was extremely emotionally immature and his nature was that of an overgrown man-child as he was still traumatised by his cruel childhood and his abusive father who undermined him at every turn. Nigma's image of self-awareness is extremely misguided as he deludes himself into believing that he is a flawless and infallible human "colossus" (or in his own words "The World's Greatest Everything"). Another of his delusions is his incapability to understand his own insanity and when Batman calls him out on this, although he gives a detailed definition he says he suffers from none of the sort. Nigma displays anti-social behaviour and his characteristics, even into adult years are similar to that of an adolescent teenager. Amongst these traits of his childishness are competitiveness, recklessness, stubbornness, pride, rash outbursts, fiery temper, aggressive tantrums and sullenness.

Despite being megalomaniacal, psychopathic and egocentric, at his core Nigma is deeply insecure and emotionally scarred. Having never received the recognition he deserved (or at least believed he deserved), it stands to reason that he pathologically has to prove how smart he is, especially to himself and displays what appears to be an inferiority complex in contrast to his overconfident demeanour. He has made it his one and only goal to degrade others, especially Batman, as being stupider than him with with either arrogant insults designed to lower his victims self-esteem or using the unfounded results from his tests (death traps) as evidence of this. In a moment of complete self-righteousness he claims his tests were for the good of society by weeding out those who are intelligent and those who fail, who are by Nigma's definition "stupid", always die. Nigma's magnificently over-fed ego is never damaged, ignoring that he has been defeated, humiliated and imprisoned multiple times, he constantly believes he will come out on top, never thinking history would repeat itself. He is not above cowardice or dropping his arrogant façade by pathetically pleading.

Appearance:

In Arkham Origins, Enigma had brown hair with glasses. He wore a purple vest with his GCPD tag on his neck, a white shirt and tie, fingerless gloves, and on his left hand he wore two watches on his wrist. He also wore dark green pants with keys on his belt loops, and brown shoes.

[mayalaen]

VPNs aren't just for pirates and company data anymore

A friend complained to me that they couldn't access pr0n anymore because the government is now requiring ID to verify age where they are, and due to data leaks and privacy issues, didn't want to share their ID even though they're of legal age.

Shit like this doesn't work on the intended target. It only frustrates people who are aren't tech savvy while a lot of kids have already found their way around it because that's what kids do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When I talk about VPNs (virtual private networks), non-tech savvy people's eyes glaze over 😂

It sounds like complicated, unknowable magic. It's not! And you don't even have to understand it to use it!

With the government and ISPs (internet service providers) invading privacy more and more and hackers breaking in and stealing user data from companies, VPNs are becoming necessary.

Some Things a VPN Does for You:

hides your data from others

can make your internet speeds faster if your ISP does speed throttling (purposely making your speed slower)

hides what you're doing from your ISP

keeps you safer from some malware, viruses, hackers, and trackers

allows you to access things that are either restricted in your area or not available in your area (such as content in other countries)

keeps you safer when you're out in public connected to wifi

Below is a basic infographic on how VPNs work. When you access the internet, a VPN encrypts your data - making it into a secret code that can't be read by anyone else including your ISP.

Tech companies, ISPs, etc. want you to think VPNs are complicated so that you won't use them.

When searching for a free VPN, please be aware that a lot of the free VPN services out there are malware or full of viruses and trackers.

Either do some research into which one to choose or use a paid VPN service. You can either pay monthly or yearly - the yearly is always cheaper in the long run.

Some of the Top Rated VPN Services:

ExpressVPN $7 - $13/month

NordVPN $3 - $13/month

Surfshark $2 - $14/month

PrivateInternetAccess $2 - $12/month

ProtonVPN (some sites block this one) $4 - $10/month

CyberGhost $2 - $13/month

I use ExpressVPN, so for the purposes of this post, I'm going to use screenshots from ExpressVPN.

Once you have an account, download the program from the website to your desktop/laptop or find the app on Android or iOS app stores.

Signing in requires a code that the VPN will email to you that unlocks all the features. Pay attention when the program installs because it'll ask you about preferences, and you can easily check yes on blocking pr0n when that's the reason you wanted a VPN in the first place 😂

When the program is open, you'll see this:

As you can see in the screenshot, not only do I have the program, but I have an ExpressVPN icon on my browser. The program installs this automatically, and when the program is running, the icon will have a green checkmark on it so you know it's working in your browser.

You'll notice I've recently connected using Japan. I did this so I could watch a series that isn't available outside of Japan.

The program automatically chooses a location near you, but if you want to access things that are restricted to you, make sure you click on the three dots to the right of the selected location (see screenshot below) and search for a state/country/place that your content will be available in.

Once your location is selected, click on the start/power button, and you'll get a popup notification from your computer that ExpressVPN is connected.

Go to the site you want to use and use it like you normally would.

Here's what it should look like when it's running correctly:

Keep in mind that if you leave a VPN running all the time (which is perfectly fine to do), search engines like Google will assume you live wherever ExpressVPN tells it you live, so searching for "stores near me" will give you results that aren't close to you.

When you're done using the VPN, just hit the power button again and it shuts off.

I use this on all my handheld devices, my desktop, and my laptop for business and personal reasons. I'm a pirate, and I've been using VPNs for a long time, yet none of the ISPs I've used have ever given me a warning about torrenting.

Good luck, and enjoy all the new things you can access!

BTW for anybody wondering, my desktop wallpaper is a map of the world's time zones. So pretty!! 😍

[shantechni]

You've been posting a lot about code lyoko recently (I think that's what it's called) and it kind of unlocked core memories for me. But I only have vague memory of it (I think I was pretty young when it aired on tv). Do you mind explaining the premise of the show and what happens again? I remember being a little obsessed with it and it bothers me that I don't remember anymore.

Glad I've accomplished my one mission in life of unlocking someone's core memories😎Nah fr, it's nice to come across someone else who's aware of a series as niche (and pretty old, God) as this one, especially in this day and age.

So, to make a long story short, Code Lyoko is a French animated series centered on group of middle schoolers fighting a computer virus. Riveting, ain't it-

Jeremie Belpois, a computer and science nerd who stumbled upon a super computer hidden in an abandoned factory on the outskirts of his dorm school, turns the computer on out of curiosity. On it, he discovers a virtual world called Lyoko housing not only a slew of creatures, but a girl named Aelita. Through a series of unfortunate events, Jeremie eventually involves three unlikely classmates of his: Ulrich, Odd, and Yumi, and they unanimously make it their mission to someday bring Aelita out of the super computer, all while keeping the situation a secret from anyone else. To thwart their plans, a virus named XANA, which also came to life when Jeremie turned the super computer on, seeks to bring harm to them and their world, and the only way to combat it is by traveling to Lyoko.

Obviously there's more to the story than that, but that's the gist lol.

The series' largest selling point was it's clever mix of 2D and 3D animation, used as a way to differentiate between the real world of France and the virtual world of Lyoko. It's unique animation, art style, and storytelling when compared to any other French animated series that came out around the same time, made it stand out enough to end up on Cartoon Network.

There are some elements that don't hold up quite well now, and some that didn't hold up at all in '03, but there's clearly something to it that makes it worth watching.

[kplays]

Welp, given He needs to know who she is for this to work, the choice is clear.

Plus having him not know who she is, is probably dangerous long term

Of course, where the virus is, what the backdoor code is, and what you are offered to give up, is different each playthrough

Now let's see what's left

You saw networking as an option I did not unlock. There are possibilities for getting information to the outside. At cost, of course.

Now we get to see what Connor has lost to [my] choices.

To get out so far, he has lost some skill he used to have (software), and balance. Not all of it, but enough to make walking difficult.

Again, click the link at the bottom of the fanfiction to play this fangame

[trajah]

**SPOILERS FOR DAWNTRAIL** Caden is a citizen of Everkeep venturing into the Star of Etheirys with a heady mix of discovery and excitement. Gregarious and keen to travel, easily bored, confident and motivated. He views the Star as having a code to crack for success. He makes Gil moving unusual, rare or advanced items to a growing list of clients.

Name Caden Vhyr

Age: 22

Race: Nominally Hhetsarro. 

Gender: Male

Profession: Courier and Trader of exotic items.

Relationship Status: Single

Server: Crystal-Zalera

Hooks: Treasures and Mysteries: Caden's next assignment involves a rare piece of Radz-at-Han alchemical equipment or perhaps an Allagan relic that’s only half-understood. Anyone curious about these fields or looking to unlock secrets from ancient eras might have cause to join him.

Shadow Clients: Not all his clients are reputable; Caden’s work often brings him into contact with shady figures seeking highly classified magitek or stolen electrope technology. Does your character need his services—or have something to say about his dealings?

Allies and Adventurers: Restless and easily bored, Caden is always looking for new discoveries or companions to share in his latest adventure. Whether you need help tracking down a specific piece of tech or just want a travel buddy, he’s open to anything intriguing.

Dangerous Deliveries: The Allagan technology and Radz-at-Han potions he transports aren’t always stable, and some have histories darker than they appear. If your character is curious—or even suspicious—about one of Caden’s items, they might find themselves entangled in his journey.

Romantic Entanglements: Known for his charm, Caden’s made quite a few connections across regions. He’s open to romance but values genuine sparks, whether with someone as eager for adventure as he is or a stable influence amidst his fast-paced life History:

Though Caden grew up in the advanced city of Everkeep, he often feels a disconnect from his roots. He knows he’s a citizen of Solution Nine, yet he’s unsure whether his lineage traces back to the Hhetsarro of the New World or the Shard that emigrated to Heritage Found. The truth is hazy, as memories of those who’ve passed have been erased, leaving gaps in his family history.

As a teenager, Caden started out working on Outskirts' farms, a job he found dull and restrictive. The moment he was old enough, he switched paths to become a Hunter, joining expeditions and escorting researchers to long-forgotten ruins. The work suited his adventurous spirit.

The recent death of Zoraal Ja has brought a sense of freedom. With his new independence, he’s begun exploring Etheirys in earnest, building a network of enthusiasts and collectors of rare technologies. Now, his travels connect him with experts in fields ranging from Magitek to Radz-at-Han alchemy, fueling his curiosity and ever-growing list of contacts.

[educationmore]

Python for Beginners: Launch Your Tech Career with Coding Skills

Are you ready to launch your tech career but don’t know where to start? Learning Python is one of the best ways to break into the world of technology—even if you have zero coding experience.

In this guide, we’ll explore how Python for beginners can be your gateway to a rewarding career in software development, data science, automation, and more.

Why Python Is the Perfect Language for Beginners

Python has become the go-to programming language for beginners and professionals alike—and for good reason:

Simple syntax: Python reads like plain English, making it easy to learn.

High demand: Industries spanning the spectrum are actively seeking Python developers to fuel their technological advancements.

Versatile applications: Python's versatility shines as it powers everything from crafting websites to driving artificial intelligence and dissecting data.

Whether you want to become a software developer, data analyst, or AI engineer, Python lays the foundation.

What Can You Do With Python?

Python is not just a beginner language—it’s a career-building tool. Here are just a few career paths where Python is essential:

Web Development: Frameworks like Django and Flask make it easy to build powerful web applications. You can even enroll in a Python Course in Kochi to gain hands-on experience with real-world web projects.

Data Science & Analytics: For professionals tackling data analysis and visualization, the Python ecosystem, featuring powerhouses like Pandas, NumPy, and Matplotlib, sets the benchmark.

Machine Learning & AI: Spearheading advancements in artificial intelligence development, Python boasts powerful tools such as TensorFlow and scikit-learn.

Automation & Scripting: Simple yet effective Python scripts offer a pathway to amplified efficiency by automating routine workflows.

Cybersecurity & Networking: The application of Python is expanding into crucial domains such as ethical hacking, penetration testing, and the automation of network processes.

How to Get Started with Python

Starting your Python journey doesn't require a computer science degree. Success hinges on a focused commitment combined with a thoughtfully structured educational approach.

Step 1: Install Python

Download and install Python from python.org. It's free and available for all platforms.

Step 2: Choose an IDE

Use beginner-friendly tools like Thonny, PyCharm, or VS Code to write your code.

Step 3: Learn the Basics

Focus on:

Variables and data types

Conditional statements

Loops

Functions

Lists and dictionaries

If you prefer guided learning, a reputable Python Institute in Kochi can offer structured programs and mentorship to help you grasp core concepts efficiently.

Step 4: Build Projects

Learning by doing is key. Start small:

Build a calculator

Automate file organization

Create a to-do list app

As your skills grow, you can tackle more complex projects like data dashboards or web apps.

How Python Skills Can Boost Your Career

Adding Python to your resume instantly opens up new opportunities. Here's how it helps:

Higher employability: Python is one of the top 3 most in-demand programming languages.

Better salaries: Python developers earn competitive salaries across the globe.

Remote job opportunities: Many Python-related jobs are available remotely, offering flexibility.

Even if you're not aiming to be a full-time developer, Python skills can enhance careers in marketing, finance, research, and product management.

If you're serious about starting a career in tech, learning Python is the smartest first step you can take. It’s beginner-friendly, powerful, and widely used across industries.

Whether you're a student, job switcher, or just curious about programming, Python for beginners can unlock countless career opportunities. Invest time in learning today—and start building the future you want in tech.

Globally recognized as a premier educational hub, DataMites Institute delivers in-depth training programs across the pivotal fields of data science, artificial intelligence, and machine learning. They provide expert-led courses designed for both beginners and professionals aiming to boost their careers.

Python Modules Explained - Different Types and Functions - Python Tutorial

[pearls-and-vignettes]

Spaceway 70 - Anna

The makeshift cell has a steel table and chair—like in old detective films. He reconfigured the room lock with a passkey only he knows, though he doesn't know how to turn off its failsafe.

With a shudder in the station, the lights turn off for a moment, and a different set of colder lights take their place, dimly. I walk through the now-unlocked door and into the hallway outside. A wall panel confirms my fears.

[Alert: Hull breach in multiple sectors | Primary power offline | Check workteam communications for further instructions]

He's scared. Worse than that, he's scared and paranoid. Pablo has the fear from another life of destruction and bloodshed in him. Maybe it's warranted—I couldn't say. Only he knows his past.

Out in the next sector I finally see someone. Two new guys, lazing on some hallway chairs.

"Anna!" One of them says brightly.

"Good evenin'," I float back.

"Quite hot in here?"

"Aye," I say tersely "A waste reactor's nearby. Makes heat. Ventilation won't be turned on 'till someone turns it on."

"Then who will?" The other man says, daftly.

"We don't waste power on climate control when there's a big hole in the ship."

Another pause, the two men look at each other. It's possible they have thoughts going through their heads, though that's difficult to confirm.

"Aren't you two supposed to be working this emergency?"

"Haven't got an assignment yet," One of them replies whilst the other is still taken aback by my question, almost falling off his chair. A moment, then he too regains his composure.

"Keep your pagers out, lads," I bark, wanting to laugh. I puff my chest and walk with intent, into the next room.

I enter my quarters to the right; a modest room, yet a little more spacious than most. To my left, a workbench with some parts scattered around a broken network module, and my PDA.

[Hello, Anna]

[32.061]

[[%% DIRECT COM %%]]

[Notice - There seems to be a system outage; operating in P2P mode | Ten unopened messages - Priority: Low - Three unopened messages - Priority: Medium - Five unopened messages - Priority: High]

I punch in my code.

[=-= Carol F. =-=]

[CUR.32.050 > L | You got your PDA on you?]

[CUR.32.053 > M | Of course he took it. Meet me at central processing when you can -- they hit deep and I need welding done. All the fabricators are out patching the hull.]

[CUR.32.057 > H | A big chunk of power routing is out. I paged John for a fabricator or two but he says he's tied up. Please be here ASAP!]

[=-= Pablo C. =-=]

[CUR.32.049 > H | ==TO GROUPS: W.G. LEADERS, SPECIALISTS, ADMIN== | Attention -- we have been attacked -- this is a matter I will handle personally -- communicate emergency plans with your workgroups.]

[=-= Jonathan L. =-=]

[CUR.32.055 > H | I know you're busy. We need to patch an LS manifold. I have a fabricator to spare. Just ping me when you're free.]

[CUR.32.057 > M | On top of that, all the cable to kitchens is out. I have a few workers patching it up but we need you for some tight wiring.]

No rest for me. I grab my toolbag from the foot of my bed and run to a utility closet in the hallway. The reserve welding cart creaks from disuse as I roll it toward me, yet it still seems to work just the same. I dust off some goggles and shove them in a pocket as I make for Carol.

Eventually, I arrive at central processing, winded from running with so much stuff. Carol is buried deep in her assistant, probably typing out one communication after another.

"God, this thing is so slow!"

"I'm here..?"

"Yes. Hi, Anna," she finishes another message before she finally looks up, "Let's fix this thing so I'm not stuck on peer to peer."

She moves to the wall, which holds an impressive array of cooling pipes and circuits. Indicator lights flash off and on erratically whilst a monitor spits out warning after warning. At the far end, away from the corner where she started, there is a series of busted conduits supposed to hold thick cable against a hastily repaired wall.

"Here, where the cables go into this contactor array."

She pries the panel off the array's enclosure and exposes a beautiful mess of small, printed traces and goliath cables interfacing with one another. The leftmost portion of this box has severed wire and shattered boards.

"I isolated this module from the rest of the processor. And there's no voltage through the cables." She hands me a drawing and walks to an electrical cart. "Just replace the broken components. It doesn't have to be pretty." The cart, being twice the size of mine, is filled with wires of all gauges, components of all kinds, a work surface with a solderer, and has board printing capabilities. "All the files you might need are on that printer."

"Got it," I reply.

She looks back to her PDA and her eyes betray her exasperation, briefly. "I'll be back in a few to turn it on and debug," she shouts whilst having one foot already out the door. I grab a screwdriver and begin to pull away at the broken components. When they don't budge, I pull out the angle grinder. Rinse and repeat.

At least I have a simple life...

[writerbythewater-blog]

The Lyoko Warriors worked hard to free Aelita from from her digital prison, and were all glad when she joined them in the real world. However there were some, well, odd habits she picked up in the digial world. They all helped her with things when they could, but Jeremie was the one who worried about it the most. Aelita had habit of trying to walk through wall and tried to unlock doors by waving her hand to open their code. She also kept calling them all warriors, or her protectors. Odd loved it, it made him feel important, but he understood that they really needed her to stop.

Missy kept side-eyeing Aelita, so Ulrich had to keep her eyes on him whenever she was around Aelita. Yumi and started taking Aelita to town more to practice doors away from the student body. Odd knew most of the school thought his weirdness was because of his family, so he started telling everyone Aelita was his cousin. A lot of her weird habits were written off as Odd's fault after that, but at least most of the student body stopped watching her.

Jeremie forged her papers, and enlisted her in the school as Odd's cousin. Hacking the schools network was child's play after working with Lyoko for so long, and freeing Aelita. Of course the Lyoko Warriors still had to fight against X.A.N.A, and Jeremie worried going between the two worlds made things harder for Aelita.

It took a few months, and a lot of help from the warriors, but Aelita got used to the real world. She stopped walking into walls, or trying to pull up code. In time the student body stopped watching her, and they were able to relax. Jeremie still worried about her, but the others knew that was because of his feeling for her. Aelita was safe. The Lyoko Warriors had done their job, and they would keep doing their job.