#I simply think solving codes is fun!

[regicidal-defenestration]

I hope there's another TSV code but this time they hash it with SHA-1. I hope they use steganography to put the code inside an image. They use the Enigma machine to encrypt it but don't tell us the initial settings

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Concept: In The Burning Maze, I think it would have been cool if one of the crossword puzzles in the labyrinth had been a mathematical equation.

Specifically, a mathematical equation on mathematical logic, such as negations.

Why? Because Apollo is the god of mathematics and I think it would be funny if Grover and Meg were standing there, staring with horror at:

~(~(p^q))

"What is this nonsense?" Asks Meg, a literal sixth grader who has never before encountered college-level math.

"I...I don't know!" Responds Grover, anxiously wringing his hands. He also has never come across something like this before. "I never went to high school!"

"Is it code for something?"

"The little carrot there looks kinda like a Greek Delta- is Daedalus related somehow?"

"A carrot-what?"

"The carrot!" Grover points at the symbol between the 'p' and 'q'. "It looks like the Delta symbol!"

"Oooh. Okay."

The sentence below the odd thing reads;

Solve my riddle,

Or play second fiddle,

You can find me in education,

For I am the ________!

"...What does that mean?" Grover whimpers.

Meg looks stumped.

"...negation," Apollo's staring at the strange equation. "'Solve my riddle, or play second fiddle. You can find me in education, for I am the negation!'. That's the missing word in the rhyme."

They stare at him. "How do you know that?" Grover bewilderedly asks. "It makes no sense!"

"Math logic," Apollo simply says. "This particular one is...about first, second-year level in college, I'd say."

Grover closes his eyes, muttering; "No wonder I couldn't solve it." as Meg stares first at the equation, then at Apollo.

"What even is a negation?"

"That," Apollo points to the squiggly lines. "It cancels the truth values out, giving you the opposite of what's inside the parathesis."

"...What?"

Apollo huffs. "The 'p' and 'q' both represent something, like two parts of a sentence. The carrot can be upside-down or right-side-up, representing 'or' or 'and' in that sentence."

"Which way is up when?" Grover looked to be on the verge of tears as the realization math did not, in fact, end with numbers or numbers and letters.

"Uh..." Apollo made a 'V' with his hands. "If it's like this, it's 'or'. If it's like this," he made a tiny pyramid with his hands. "It's 'and'. Imagine a line through the center, like an 'A'. That's 'and'."

Grover rubbed at his eyes. "Too much," he whimpered. "Too much."

Apollo gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "In this case," he said. "It's saying 'and'. The negation, well, negates their values, so it becomes-" he pats his pants and looks in his pockets. "Anyone have a pen and paper...?"

Blank looks met his. "Okay, then...then just imagine a squiggly line in front of the 'p' and 'q'. That's what the first negation does. Then the second one negates that negation, taking the squiggly lines away."

Breathing in, he finished with; "So our mathematical answer would be, 'p and q', written with the carrot right-side-up- like the 'A'."

The tunnel was silent.

Then it was broken. "How do you know all that?" Meg demanded, looking extremely confused. "That makes no sense. I thought there were numbers."

"There are," Apollo patiently explained. "But this is a logic problem, and they don't do numbers."

"Never before have I been grateful to not to have to go to college," Grover rubbed at his temples. "Algebra was bad enough. Now this?"

"Hey!" Apollo looked slightly offended. "It's all quite fun, really, when you figure it out! Besides, we didn't even have to solve it!"

"Then why did you?" Meg asked.

Apollo stared at her. "Because you asked me too-!"

"Nope." She blew a raspberry. "None of us did."

He closed his eyes, as if praying for mercy.

"Anyway," Apollo gave both of them the stink-eye. "Math and music were quite intertwined back in the day, so the Muses and I are quite adept at it- Thalia's the geometry queen, and whatever you do, do not say 'Bet you can't solve this in a minute' to Urania. She will make you look stupid."

"Bet that's not hard."

"Oh, shut up."

insert cackle from Meg

"ANYWAY," Apollo gives her the stink-eye. "Ancient Greece was a breeding ground for mathematical minds- Pythagoras, for one, who was my son to boot! Even Hestia enjoys looking over Hephaestus's construction equations in her spare time."

The other two stared at him, as if shocked the gods would find math, of all things, fun.

Apollo awkwardly glanced away from them. He didn't know what their reactions would be if he told them of the many contributions he has made to the world of mathematics. For some reason, silly mortals didn't seem to appreciate the hard work put into them!

Sighing, he said; "Uh, Labyrinth, the answer is 'negation'. We got side-tracked there for a bit."

One hallway in front of them glowed with the answer. Without another word, they quickly speed-walked down the passage-way.

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Eighth Intel | Before

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Toxic Relationship, Obsession, Menticide

Words: 4k (What's a drabble again?)

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

 ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■  “Bell” ■ ▞ ■ ▚ ■ 

Day After Ukraine Mission

16:07 | February 28th, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN” 

“You do that a lot.”

You start from what you were staring at, the codes that are so tricky and you feel so close. The intel from what you have in your hands adding a piece to the puzzle that you’re enamored with—the complexities satisfying a carnal part of you that you can’t name. Your head turns to find Lazar’s curious yet amused smile, close to the television they used sometimes for the news not at your usual spot at the too small desk with the too large computer; at the center table instead is where you chose to haunt. 

“What?” you reply dumbly, too out of your element to say a more snarky reply. The transition from focused on the task to this interruption from the man that is more of an Eema than an Abba due to how hearty he looks and feels and making sure everyone felt the same by also stuffing their face. 

“That.” You were met with Lazar’s finger in your face. You resisted the urge to stare cross eyed and instead gave him a more inquisitive look, eyes searching. Which only humored him more, releasing a chuckle. “You have quite an intimidating stare.”

You push the hand away, scoffing,

“What? At my work? Isn’t that like everyone else?”

Lazar hummed, his eyes glittering at a joke you can’t understand.

“No. You have that type of stare that will freeze lesser men. Or get slapped by someone who thinks you’re looking for a fight. Or get you put into an asylum. Only, when you decode, you have an insane smile on your face. It’d be creepy if we didn’t know you.”

“Uh huh.” You dismissed, eyes glancing at the medical office. “You should work better on your compliments if you want Park to have a drink with you.”

If Park wasn’t in the medical office room along with Adler, you’re sure Lazar would throw his old cup noodle at you. Alas, he only gave you a dry “Ha. Ha.” with a neutral expression but still didn’t leave. He wants an answer. 

You turn to him fully, elbows leaning back against the desk, petulant.

“I doubt I smile like how you describe…” Lazar snorted while you frowned at him, before shifting your gaze back to your papers. “I don’t know. I just…love puzzles. They’re fun to solve.”

“Is that what makes you stare so intently?” Lazar leaned against the television, the stand slightly creaking at the movement, his intrigue seeming sincere. Another question hidden, two subjects being asked for one answer. A wall. “The thrill?”

Is that what love is to you?

You tapped at the papers, biting your lip in thought. 

“Maybe a part…I just have this need to figure things out. To open it up—to find the numbers, the letters, the riddles. In an order that is random but it’s not. It’s just a trick. A shadow on the wall. A reason for each piece. Each hint. Every piece of the puzzle has its purpose. It’s reason for being.” You didn’t notice when you started smiling, the topic consuming you like books and pictures do. But you just kept going as you grabbed your pen and fiddled with it, miming writing numbers or letters. “Like Sims with mechanics, I think. Or you with bomb wiring. You find the hardy wires or broken pieces—and I untangle it all. I even love how difficult it could be if I find a cipher intellectual. It’s fun.”

“Sounds maddening,” Lazar replied simply, brow raising. “And painful. Maybe even obsessive.”

You shrug, staring deeply at your own pen, tone far away. As if you were speaking about another topic than this. Something other. Like a secret.

“That’s love, isn’t it? Pain and obsession?”

“Your books tell you that? Or you come to that conclusion yourself?” You pressed your lips, silent. Only glancing at Lazar(are you easy to read?) who only smiled gently before switching gears and letting out a booming laugh. “With that description of love—you very much implied Adler is in love with our friendly neighborhood Perseus.”

Your jaw dropped, a gasp being released as you sat up rigid in your chair. A defense for Adler and a denial ready only for a startling guffaw to join in.

“What the shit are you talking about, Lazar?” Woods comes from his previous spot practicing with the boxing bag, Mason side by side with his own amused gaze as they come close to the center table. Woods snorted as he leaned back against the table near you instead of taking a proper seat. “Can you imagine our own Robert Redford switching spit with a commie? Ha!”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Mason quips to his friend with a nudge while Woods expression quickly changed to offended with no heat as he pushes Mason back with a disbelieving snort. “What? Sorry I’m airing out your fantasies.”

It was strange watching them. The easy back and forth quips and teases. Lazar felt like a warm hearth and home cooked meals compared to Mason’s steady kindness of a worn animal despite its past and Woods…

You briefly think of the night prior, how charged he felt out in the field. Not eager for it yet…willing to take everything and anything out his way. But his friendly taunts and words to you too. The arcade. The room where you got the intel and the knowledge he had of you, knowing you would’ve loved to play around more with the tech and computers there if the both of you had time and not world ending doom.

You weren’t impressed by his skills. Skills are to be expected in this line of work. People can call you cocky all they want.

But how personable he is? That was different.

It was unexpected.

(Why did it feel like he’s more close to you than Sims right now? Why has everyone been so disconnected from you? Even—blue fire for eyes hidden by the shaded wall, wheat dancing in the wind, artful cracks across a canvas—)

A hand waved in front of your face, your eyes broken from its lost look as you blinked back to the present.

“Hello? Earth to Bell?” Woods was still next to you and you couldn’t help but notice that Mason moved away with Lazar to where Lazar’s station is. Still talking with friendly smiles and easy atmosphere. You blinked again before turning towards Woods, who looked at you with a mix of amusement and concern. “What happened there? Did you even listen to a word I said?”

You didn’t. You’ve been doing this a lot. Getting lost in your head. Your brain foggy and mind distant. Not as quick as you usually are. You thankfully haven’t had this happen in the field. You hope it stays that way.

Instead of giving a straight answer, your lips only rose in a dry smile.

“Sorry, was thinking just how you got the guts to punch Hudson of all people.”

Woods huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back, brushing your shoulders as he did. 

“Doesn’t take guts to punch a prick.”

“No,” your smile turns up a tad, more mischief. “Takes some balls instead. Can’t have balls without a prick nearby or there’ll be trouble.”

Woods made a choked sound, as he stared at you dumbly before slapping the table and releasing a loud boom of a laugh. You wonder how he does that. So loud. So free. 

“You got more spunk than I thought, Bell. Guess you need it to even get the idea to escape in a Ruskie tank.”

You huff out your nose, but your chest still lightened at the praise. Your smile coming easy now and tension completely fallen away. You hid it though as you turned back to your work, picking up a stray picture of the Ukraine base you took.

“Did it for you. I figured you would want to run some commie’s over.”

“Oh, I’ve dreamed of it. I would say top five of my favorite wet dreams.”

You couldn’t help it. You snorted, it bursted through your chest and it didn’t stop, only turned to a laugh. You put a hand over your mouth to try to contain it but Woods satisfied expression only made you laugh more.

“Why—why did you say that?!” You try to collect yourself but you couldn’t. Not when Woods waggled his brows as if in answer. “Pfft—should I even ask what’s top one?”

Woods shrugged. 

“No can do. Gotta protect your innocence somewhere. My mind is a crazy place. Don’t wanna scare you off.” You snort again, shaking your head at him and tried to get back to work. Woods didn’t move as you stared around at the different pictures you took with Intel. “Say, where’s the random pics you took of me?”

“Don’t worry, Woods. I didn’t take out a camera with you over the mannequin—“ You stopped when he shook your shoulder, a warning gaze that only made you bite back another smile and only glare at him with no heat as you pushed his hand off. “Calm down,” you say quietly. “I haven’t said anything. Scout’s Honor.” You raise a hand as if to show.

Woods rose a brow dubiously.

“Were you even a Girl Scout?”

“Doubtful. Looks like you just gotta hope I don’t open my mouth about it.”

Woods grunted. Yet still didn’t leave. 

“Do you normally take pics of everything and everyone? Even on missions like that?”

“I like it. I like taking pictures. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You did take a few of him before you took a picture of the base. It was nice lightning and he looked good. “I can give you the pictures I took to you, if you want. They were good shots.”

“I suppose I can add it to my scrapbook.” Woods joked before shaking his head, his eyes turning more curious as the conversation went on. Gaze more assessing as he stared down at you. “Nah, it’s fine.  Don’t mind you keeping them. After I take a look of course. I guess I’m just asking…what’s the obsession with the camera? Film is precious right?” At your shoulder tensing, you starting to get defensive, he quickly changed tactics as he rose a hand in calming manner. “I ain’t judging. Just curious. Couldn’t help but overhear Park talk to you that Adler doesn’t like wasting resources. Or some shit like that. I don’t get the big deal. But it must be if you keep doing it despite them having a stick up their asses about some film of all things.”

Your brows pinched together, gazing intently at Woods eyes. You don’t see a reprimand. Or exasperation. Or even amused exasperation, like you were just being cute while doing something disobedient—like a pet jumping at their owners even as they tell them no with an amused smile. (“Always the one who never listens. Huh, Bell? Didn’t I tell you before about the pictures?”) He’s being sincere in his interest. It was his expression that did it.

You looked away, eyes taking in the safehouse around them. 

“Ever feel like a ghost in your own body?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Woods answered roughly. You nodded next to you, him taking that as permission that he can finally properly sit next to you. You didn’t mind thighs or shoulders brushing. Comrades now. Both of you throwing your lives on the line. Getting shot  by a common enemy brings people together no other way can. 

“Well, the coma did a number on me. I don’t remember much. I can’t put a story to scars on my body. My life, my memories—it’s only Vietnam.”

“Fucked up thing to remember. That whole war was a shit show,” Woods provided. “You must’ve been young.”

You only hummed, distant. Eyes straying in the direction of the red room. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, ears falsely hearing shots and napalm strikes. You shuddered but hid it by clenching your fists on the table, eyes on your jumbled words of your work. 

“Yeah…Hue City was just the start of everything going downhill…But I guess my point is…” You don’t know how to properly say it, you can’t find the English word for this. Esurient for memories erased. The feeling of not quite fitting in everyone’s circle, even with Sims. Monachopsis. (Are you even here at all? It’s like they stare past you.) “Life is memories. I don’t have any. What’s a person if not memories? So…I don’t feel…like it. A person.” You shrug casually, mutely. Hand wandering to a picture, thumbing it. “Ghosts don’t seem to remember stuff besides a deep motive. That’s what others believe. But…with pictures…pictures are for memories. If I take pictures, I’m actually taking memories. And if take enough memories…” You struggled once more how to explain but Woods was sharp despite his looks.

“You’ll be a person again.” Your eyes darted towards him, giving him a minute nod as he seemed to consider your words with a tilt of his head. The silence between the two of you wasn’t stifling, just…there.

You felt like something was released from you. 

Unlocked. 

The key was just for someone to ask. 

“Hey, listen—“ you turned at the soft touch to your shoulder, and you noticed Woods looked uncomfortable about the atmosphere you created. Not used to sharing open emotions like this no doubt but still had what appeared like care in his eyes. “You should really talk to Mason, he—“

Your ears honed in on the medical office opening, your eyes quick to follow as your head swiveled. Everything turned silent as your eyes settled upon the body you can recognize even in the thickest of jungles or deepest of wet rice paddies. And as your eyes settled, your thoughts of ruminating toska and the sense of lacuna dissipated.

You were so busy trying to catch what Adler was saying to Park beside him, you temporarily forgotten Woods next to you. You could hear him talking. Some form of advise. 

You turned back to your work and absently nodded with a quick smile to match at him. Your lips moved to say thanks. You think you did.

You didn’t see Woods throw another look of concern towards you, of suspicion. Turning something over his head.

You forced your ears to stretch, as if with force you can have super hearing. With brute force you can have the arcane man with valleys upon his visage, with liquid nectar that bounces with voluminous silk, voice of gravel that leads to the path of victory and makes your mind hazy. 

You still had a pen in your hand, tight as you looked down with a frown at the papers. Your leg beginning to bounce under the table. Impatient. Restless. Athirst.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Adler called out(Beckoned, Signaled, Enticed—trinket waved like a treat. Your nepenthe.) clearly, more loudly than how he was talking to Park. You didn’t turn your head as he walked out the door near the garage door, too obvious. But you did sneak a look when he exited, stealing gaze right when you saw his back before the door closed.

Except it didn’t. A small rock held it ajar.

A secret.

“What the hell?” Woods was bewildered, staring after Adler while you tried to hide the fact. Waiting a beat. Or two. Your leg bounced under the table, growing more insistent. “Doesn’t he get his fix in here anyways?”

You heard Lazar answer for Woods, something about Adler needing a change of scenery sometimes. You can see in your peripheral his glance. You ignored it as you stood up to head back to your computer desk.

“I’m taking a break too,” you say, quickly picking a book from your pile in the corner after a brief deliberation.

“Uh…” Woods face would’ve made you laugh from how scrunched up it was as he stared as you quickly fixed your work papers back in the center table, book under your arm. “Isn’t that what you were doing? Like fuckin’ a second ago?”

“No,” you answer, organizing the pictures and quickly scanning them before you do so. “Lazar interrupted me from my work. And then you did. It was an interruption. Not a break.”

“You sure turned prickly,” Woods said in answer.

You pause, seeing Woods was somehow offended. He just doesn’t get it.

“Says the cactus,” you quip with a quick smile, twitching up more at Woods huff out his nose. “I…like taking my break the same time as Adler,” You decide to answer the question in his eyes. He did listen. “It’s what we’ve always done. I read. He smokes. And right back to work we go. It works better this way.”

You didn’t wait for his reply. 

You didn’t even bother to see if he was about to.

You have the book in your hand, and you have your tether(Your eyes looks for the sun tanned gold even though it should blind you, but you never cared for your wellbeing. Protect the quiet monster like a demon enraged. Demon for monster. Monster for demon. The coin. You keep it in your pocket, whelve it—the whispered confession—the gravity of your ustulation and agastopia can burn through your pockets and skin all it wish. You keep it in. Like the pain killers Adler gave you earlier for your migraine after their meeting with Hudson about Ukraine.) outside. 

You open the door and without looking, you went to the left side of the door that’s by some unused pallets. Sitting on them and opening your book to your last point, as if you were ignoring him. (How could you?) He was smoking as he leaned against the wall beside the door. You always left of it, him always right. (▞ He’s always right. ▞ He ▙ never ▞ lies. Not to ▖ ▞ ▗ you.)

It was silent. Only the turning of your pages as you focused on reading, and the occasional exhale you hear now and then if you strain your ears. A puff of grey smoke above the two as your audience.

You don’t mind the quiet moments. You take what you can get. The two of you have too long a history for you to be uncomfortable at silence. Or needing something more. 

You don’t.

(The secret coin in your pocket burns, and you try not to flinch nor whine. You must stay sated, ▚ демон ▚ ▛ ▖ ▖.) 

A shot went through the front of your skull, your hand darting up as it seemed to go to the back of your head, a hiss to your lips. You almost dropping the book with your other hand.

“Another migraine?” He was close. You opened your eyes you didn’t realize were closed as you were hunched over your knees, spotting his shoes. 

You only offered a small nod before closing your eyes again, jaw tight. 

“I don’t…” you stop, speaking more quietly to help with the pounding. The sunlight was too much already, you don’t want to add your own voice to your own misery. “Dont know why it’s getting worse. Is this…normal?”

“It can be.” He replied simply, to the point. “Here. Take this.”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head to spot he took out some more medicine from his leather jacket, holding it out to the pills in the palm of his hand. At the sight, your stomach curdled.

You felt yourself pale and you don’t know why.

Adler must’ve noticed your hesitation. Tilting his head and lips twitching to a frown around his cigarette. He lifted a hand, taking one deep inhale, embers subtly lighting his face before he threw it off. He exhaled out his nose, smoke flowing smoothly. 

Your throat tightened as you stared. But not in want. It felt more heavy. More heady. Your mouth open more in a wince than for anything else.

“You know this will help. We gotta make sure you’re in shape for this, Bell.” You bowed your head in shame, book now beside you on the pallet as you clenched your hands on your knees. You heard him sigh. And now you see him, closer—he’s kneeling in front of you. One knee down, the other having his elbow leaning against it. “I don’t have to explain to you the stakes currently. You know how serious this is since you and Woods found out Hudson’s dirty little secret about Perseus and the nuke he has. You know it. We can’t fuck around anymore.”

You hunched your shoulders, as if that can hide you from your guilt. Because you spotted his glance towards your book. You can guess what else he’s hinting.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? A part of your mind asked. You tried to not let your heart crack of no more pictures.

“I know…” you say, eyes down and to the side. Yet… “It’s just…it wasn’t that long ago you gave me them…I don’t—I mean—“ Your tongue is tied again. Like always near him. You didn’t mean to sound accusing or hinting. Adler is trained for medical issues on the field. You tried to take a breath. “I just don’t want to be a burden with all this. Slow you guys down. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You did a tight squeeze of your knees, practically white knuckled grip, a mix of uncaring at your honesty and hating yourself for it.

You felt your chin be lifted up, Adler’s forefinger doing so you can be face to face. He assessed you seriously.

“You won’t, kid.” He’s so close. Breath to your face. So calm too. Your anchor. He believes in you. If you or him leaned just an inch or two forward—he took his hand away from your face before bringing his palm with the medicine again. “Taking these will help. I’ll watch over you. Just like the good ‘ol days.” He tilted his head, a quirk of the mouth up. And you think he couldn’t be more charming. 

You ignored your past nerves, quickly taking the medicine in a dry swallow, gloved hands brushing his bare ones(Damn it all.). 

He nodded at you, the barest thing of it before he stood up. Glancing at your book again with pressed lips before facing you once more with a raised brow.

“Oscar Wilde? Here I thought you only read Dostoevsky and Nietzsche.”

“It’s a collection of some of his poem’s. And a break from existentialism and nihilism is good for the mind. But you’ve always been more of a stoic,” you shoot him a teasing look, an attempt to get your bravado back. “Our very own Prince Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Adler did a small huff out his nose.

“Just don’t start bowing.” Adler did a quick motion of his to the door. “Come on. Back to work, Tolstoy.”

You nod, marking where you were in the book before following Adler back in, your hold on the book tight. Who knows when you’ll get to read again.

Stay a ghost or try to be a person? 

(It doesn’t matter. Adler made the choice for you.)

You tell yourself it’s fine. You instead let yourself be a book for Adler—willing to be read. You imagine how he would do it, a book of you in his hands. Read through your pages, open up your spine and let his fingers run through your creases—how easily can he finish you? How many times could he, until you’re worn and wrinkled from use? Will his touch trace the abuse of a loved book?

The place where he put his finger on your chin burns.

…

The page you marked on the page reads: “Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

A/N: Bell is a SIMP. Poor girl. The best way to tell if Bell is in love, is if she suddenly starts thinking in poetry. Bell stares intensely you say? Bell loves intensely too.

I’m also confusing myself with Dark!Adler and Soft!Adler. But again he’s both so 🤷‍♀️ Man so toxic and a red flag, he’s even confusing the author.

Also, I’m planning to write really quickly to finish up For Whom the Bell Tolls. Didn’t want to but I really want to go ahead and write for BO6. Then again, that fic was NEVER supposed to be that long or longer. Sorry if I speed through some stuff, I just want to finish it and move on then torture you all further.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae @makeyourpeacenow @obsessedgremlin

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[capr1pengu1n]

Man, I really throughly enjoyed your vigilante!reader x riddler story. I just absolutely love the way you characterize him. I’ve been thinking about it for days, no joke. It’s where my mind ends up wandering. So if you feel compelled, may I request a similar situation, a bat-family reader x reader, but with a more hmmmm antagonistic approach maybe? Banter, name-calling, taunts, curses, gibes. Idk, I need them at each other’s throats, to the point where they lift cannot stand each other, then…hate sex ensues! Maybe my girl fights for dominance, but is ultimately a switch-leaning sub, so when Eddie does ultimately overpower her, he’s down right giddy at how submissive she can be when she’s not a pain in his ass. (Also, if you could throw in a size kink for Eddie I’d die a happy women, but do what you want and what your comfortable with, or ignore this all together, I just really love your writing!)

I'll break your pretty face

Summary: After solving your rival's incessant riddles, you're face to face with the man who has been giving you a headache for months now. But with emotions bubbling to the surface, you find out just how much your rival hates to feel about you.

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), hate sex, dubcon (to be safe), dom!edward, fingering, spanking, choking, degradation, creampie, Edward being a condescending ass, insults and snide remarks galore.

Words: 5.2k

Notes: Thank you very much for the request anon! This was so much fun to write, and i'm happy to have finished it before going away with my family. I hope you enjoy!

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Running, your heels burn as you race to the back of the abandoned shopping mall, your cape billowing around your form as you sprint. The riddle you’d been given at the last location rattles around in your head, racing through the possibilities. ‘I shine like the sun, yet I'm cold to the touch, In the earth I am found, deep within as such. I clink and I clank, and I’m strong and steadfast, From coins to machines, through ages I last.’

All you know is that it’s located at the back of the abandoned shopping project in amusement mile, so you’d sped over on your motorcycle to beat the timer. This was all a game, his twisted version of a game. Right now, The Riddler had Officer Patel from the GCPD with a bomb collar around his neck in the middle of a pig pen; with glee he’d explained you had to do his stupid treasure hunt to find the code-word that would disarm the bomb remotely, letting the police know his location. While you know Gordon has his men searching any farm or slaughterhouse, simply solving his puzzles was quicker and more reliable to get the officer to safety. His demented scavenger hunt had taken you all over Gotham, your motorcycle practically out of fuel by now, as each location was another puzzle or stupid memory game that would lead you elsewhere. You slightly felt like a headless chicken, running around wherever he told you.

Getting to the back of the mall, you catch your breath as your eyes dart around the various stores that you can see, or maybe it’s in the employees only area? The riddle echoes in your head again…metal? But if that’s the answer, what does that have to do with-

Your gaze falls on the Hot Topic store, abandoned and derelict, but unmistakable with the sign out front. Metal music. It has to be in there, you think as you notice the security camera seemingly pointed right at you, red light on despite the supposed lack of power. He’s watching you, you know he is. Pointing your middle finger right where he’d be able to see, you enter the store and look around. God he infuriated you, his smug smile a constant picture in your head whenever you think about his riddles or his crimes. The way he talks to you is different than how he talks about your family, no with you he seems to be ten times more condescending. The patronising tone gets you more riled up than anything, with the falsely charming comments about your looks just seeking to make the anger rise up your chest like lava bubbling to the top of a pissed off volcano.

Sure enough, inside the store was an arrow spray painted in a metallic shade of green, pointing to a cassette player with a crude smiley face. You go towards it and press play, hearing the word ‘Venality’ screamed from a pained voice, presumably Officer Patel, along with a button flashing. Switching it on, seemingly nothing happens for a few moments, your eyes frantically looking around to see if you missed anything. Then your comms device crackles to life.

“Riddler just made contact, said you solved the puzzle. Gordon is sending his men for the officer, good work.” You hear Bruce say, causing you to smile a little. You’re glad you helped, and despite how shallow it makes you feel, you’re glad you got praise from your adoptive father. Hard to impress, you feel satisfied that you’re able to prove yourself, that’ll teach Tim not to doubt your intellectual skills again at least.

You’re just about to leave the store when static fills your ears again, this time from the old speakers hanging above the clothes racks. “Oh look at that, my favourite dimwitted little girl was able to solve my puzzles.”

Gritting your teeth, you leave the store and stand in the empty space outside before the speakers in the mall itself crackle to life. “Walking off are you? Oh are you having a tantrum? Poor girl, do you want me to call daddy to pick you up?”

His condescending tone was like nails down a chalkboard to you as you glare up at the security camera. “What’s wrong? Pissed off I beat you?”

“I’d hardly call that display beating me, a child could have probably solved those riddles faster than you. Still I suppose you saved the life of the corrupt cop, how lovely.”

“Oh? I thought I was a child according to you.”

“Dear, it’s called infantilization,” you can hear the smirk on his face as he continues to patronise you, “Besides, I know you aren’t a child with a body like that, no matter how much you try and hide it with such garish costumes.”

Fighting the blush at his crude comment, you shake your head. “I know you aren’t the one to talk about garish outfits.”

This elicits a throaty laugh from the criminal. “Oh I’m hurt darling, truly… Oh wait a second, I’m not! Why would I bother with an opinion from someone of such little worth and brain capacity!”

You roll your eyes, glancing away from the camera for a moment to suppress the urge to give him the reaction he’s clearly looking for. When you’d followed in the unconventional family footsteps of becoming a vigilante, Bruce was clear and concise with how he taught you about the different criminals that operated throughout Gotham. Both their modus operandi in terms of their various crimes and escapades, but also their psychological profiles. Edward Nigma was a textbook narcissist who thrives on the attention and validation of others, so you were determined to not give him what he craved.

“Leaving already dear?” he asks as you head to leave, “you haven’t even asked where I am.”

“You’ve rerouted your signal through seven different countries’ VPN networks, we’ll find you eventually.”

“I guarantee you will not. Well, maybe the bat or one of his many boy blunders who trail after him like deformed puppies will. But not you.”

Swallowing, you breathe slowly to calm yourself. Don’t rise to him. Don’t rise to him.

“No, but I’m nothing if not charitable. Why don’t I offer you something, maybe it’ll help you prove yourself to the other precious little costumed freaks.”

That makes you pause, as if he was aware of your internal complex to prove you earnt your place in your family as you glance at the camera.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you where I am of course. Provided you come alone. If you contact the GCPD, or any of the aforementioned costumed freaks, I’ll be gone and I’ll be sure that the next bomb will be around your pretty neck instead.”

You know Bruce would be telling you not to, to realise it was a trap, or another stupid mind game. But you can’t deny the temptation…to be the one to take down the Riddler, that’ll cause everyone’s doubts about you to dissipate, right?

“Fine…how do I know it isn’t a trap?”

He barks out another laugh. “Oh silly girl, you don’t know. But I still think you’ll come, such a hopelessly plucky thing you are.”

It’s like a blur, you find yourself nodding and listening to the address before getting on your motorcycle. As you drive through the city, the twinkling lights reflecting on the shine of your handlebars, your thoughts are scattered as you travel. This really is a bad idea, and you know it. You hate him, his stupid tone and stupid puzzles and stupid face…and yet here you are, pulling up to the abandoned building and making your way inside. Green graffiti greets you, messages like ‘can you defeat a mind such as mine?’ taunting you as you head down the hallway to a derelict living area. Flickering in the corner, you step over and see the monitor set up on the table was broadcasting the feed from the shopping mall.

“Oh good, you can follow simple instructions.”

You’re on high alert as you spin around, battle stance ready as he walks in calm as anything, question mark cane twirling in his gloved hand. With his trademark smirk etched on his face, he stands there with his head tilted.

“So what’s the plan, little girl? Knock me out, beat me up, make me repent.” He chuckles at his own words. “Or maybe just look at me.”

“You flatter yourself.” You snap at him.

“I know, it’s my favourite activity. A man with looks as well as an intellect are hard to find you know, even harder to find in a vigilante. Pity you only seem to have one of those.”

Barely suppressing the eye-roll, you bite back at him. “You won’t be so patronising when you’re in a straitjacket.”

“I’m so scared.” He says dryly, stepping closer. On instinct you lunge for him, knocking him straight in the cheek, but his reflexes are better than you thought, as a split second later his cane makes contact with your arm. The pain sends you stumbling to the right, bracing on the rat-bitten sofa as Edward grits out a laugh.

“Well well well, the brat really can punch. I’d say that was definitely in the…hm…top fifteen punches to the face I’ve taken? What an achievement.”

Despite his sarcasm, his hand is gently touching his cheek to assess the damage, and a bit of you smirks at the knowledge he’ll have a killer bruise in the morning. However so will you, if the dull throb in your arm is anything to go by.

“You hit like a girl, even with your cane.”

“Now dear, isn’t that a little sexist? Insinuating that girl’s punches are weak, I’m a little surprised.” He mocks you, smirking as he stands back to his full height. Having never been in the same room as him before, you’re a little taken aback by just how tall he really was. Sure he wasn’t the most muscular man you’d ever seen, but he clearly took the time to have a slim and strong appearance which matched his imposing stature. He rolls his neck, looking you up and down.

“Enough with the feeble attempts at brutality, you aren’t the batman.” He sneers at you, before you glare at him.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Why did I invite you here..” he repeats your question, pretending to ponder it before his eyes grow cold. “Because I hate you. I hate how…stupidly you solve my puzzles.”

You barely have time to process his weird dichotomy before he continues. “I hate how I underestimated you, I thought you were just some silly girl who put on a costume and thought yourself a hero. But now, you’re an annoying thorn in my side.”

He pulls out the gun from his belt, the gun you foolishly missed in your blind haze of annoyance and hatred as you back away slowly.

“So perhaps I brought you here to kill you, to finally rid myself of my annoying problem. Maybe then I’ll stop thinking about you.”

You pause at his last sentence, but he steps forward and places the gun against your forehead. Swallowing, you look up at him, at how his breathing is deeper than before and his hair had fallen out of place so strands fall limply against his eyebrows. Running out of time, you gently move your hand and mess with the end of his purple tie, feeling the silk material. His eyes dart, confused and with a hint of something else entirely, down to the movement of your fingers.

Taking that as your chance, you move to hit the gun away from him, kicking upwards. He grunts in pain, as you push him to the floor, gun clattering out of reach. Landing squarely on top of him, he grabs your arms and flips you with an ease that took you off guard completely. Instead of the cold glare he gave you a few moments ago, now he just laughs.

“So naïve, you think I’m not used to getting a woman on her back?” he taunts.

“Yeah I do think that, I can’t imagine a woman wanting to be in bed with someone like you.”

“Oh you’d be surprised,” he smirks, leaning in closer as he pins you properly against the hardwood floor, “I think you’ll find I do quite fine with whoever catches my attention. It’s just that nobody can ever hope to match me.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing your neck, digging in to the sides and causing you to squirm and struggle. However, unfortunately it causes your cheeks to flush which doesn’t escape his notice.

“Are you blushing?” he says, eyes frantically darting around your face.

Embarrassed beyond belief, you try and use his momentary shock to once again gain the upper hand, pushing him off you and scrambling to get up. However he’s one step behind you, getting up from the floor and grabbing your arm, pinning you face first against the wall. His height means he has to lean down to talk into your ear, his grip harsh as he keeps you in place.

“You are blushing, oh isn’t this precious. The pathetic girl is attracted to me. Well I’m not surprised, I am a specimen.”

“Do you ever shut up.” You snap, trying to move but instead he presses his chest fully into your back, hand unclipping your utility belt so it falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Not when I’m having fun. Finally you’re actually worth a damn.”

You turn and spit at him, the saliva only succeeding in creating a small stain on his white shirt, to which he tuts.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you? Spitting at me like that.” He starts as he grips your neck from behind. “I could just choke you right here, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me now, without your little toys, or without backup from your dimwitted friends. No I think you should show a bit of respect to the man who holds your life literally in his hands.”

You still, the situation really dawning on you as you’re pressed against the wall. He uses his other hand to tug your hood down, before pulling your hair so he can look at you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked this.” He mutters, his hand gently stroking the strands now and giving you whiplash from the tonal shift. “Is that true? Do you like being dominated?”

“No.” you lie, gritting your teeth as he laughs.

“No? Then why are your pupils dilated? Why is your chest moving rapidly with your frantic breathing? Either you like this, or you’re a truly pathetic hero to be this scared.”

You know deep down he’s right, and you hate it. You hate it as much as you hate him, and you hate him as much as you’ve always been secretly attracted to him. Seemingly, the twisted feeling is mutual as he pushes his knee between your thighs.

“What are you-“

“Use whatever limited cognitive abilities you possess to come up with an educated guess.” He taunts, as his knee presses against your clothed cunt. You bite back a gasp, lips parting as your hips buck forward without warning. “See? I think you’re finally starting to understand.”

It’s sick, it really is disgusting how turned on you feel as the murderer you’ve been trying to catch is currently helping you move over his knee and thigh, grinding against him. Your pussy clenches around nothing as you rock against the material of his suit trousers, the green being practically the only colour you can focus on. “I hate you…”

He smirks at your admission as he leans in, warm breath tickling your ear. “And I really believe that you believe that.”

You shudder at the whisper, as he grabs your upper arms and spins you so you’re facing him. Gripping your throat once again, his lips slam into yours in a brutal kiss, months of biting remarks and taunts accumulating into this dizzying moment of passion and desire. Not one to give up, you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him closer, tongue trying to assert dominance in his mouth. You feel the grin he has at your antics, his free hand lifting your thigh so he can grind against you.

When he pulls away, a small trail of spit connects you both as you stare at each-other. You really hate how handsome he looks like this, his eyes softer but no less condescending as he looks down at you, large hand moving away from your neck to grip your jaw.

“Much more appealing when you aren’t running your mouth.” He mutters quietly, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. Feeling the cold leather, you bite down gently and tilt your head to pull his glove off, which causes his eyes to narrow in amusement.

“Oh I see, trying to get me to touch you properly? Are you that starved for affection? I almost pity you.” He taunts, but his hand runs down your cheek in such a soft manner that it takes your breath away. Fingertips dance down to your pulse point, then down to your cape, unclipping it so it falls to the floor with your belt. His eyes roam your figure, and you know you should just punch him hard and get out of there, but when his finger fiddles with the zip at the top of your suit, you jolt with a passion and spin him so he’s against the wall. Surprisingly he lets you, as he laughs against your lips when you kiss him forcefully. He grips your hips and brings you against him, having to crane his neck downwards to keep kissing you.

Your hands feel his chest through his expensive shirt, running over where his nipple is which causes him to jump a little. Relishing in that, you run your fingers along the same spot again to which he growls and pushes you quickly. Stumbling back, he pins you against the back of the sofa and smirks.

“You’re so easy to push around, some vigilante you are.” He teases, although clearly trying to deflect from the fact he himself was flustered from your outburst. To punctuate his words, he cups your clothed cunt roughly, causing a small whine to escape you. “See isn’t that much better? To just give in to the wills of your superiors.”

You try and bite back, but it dies in your throat when he keeps groping you, this time roughly pulling the zip down of your suit so it reveals your black bra. He takes his other glove off, placing it on the back of the sofa before groping at your chest with both hands, causing your back to arch.

“Oh sweetheart, if I’d have known this is what you were hiding under that stupid outfit, I’d have rid you of it long ago.”

Tugging your suit, you let him use your limbs like a rag-doll to get the top half of your suit off, before unclipping your bra and placing it with his glove. His hands grope your newly exposed chest, circling your nipples as he groans softly at the sight. He cruelly pinches just to watch you cry out.

“That’s it, let me use you. You just love it don’t you?”

You don’t answer, which clearly aggravates him. He pinches your right nipple roughly yet again, as his left hand comes up to tug your hair. “I said, you love it. Don’t. You.”

“Yes!” you finally cry out, hips bucking into nothing as your breath comes out shaky and stunted. His self satisfied grin speaks volumes as he pats your cheek condescendingly.

“Good girl.”

Impatiently, he tugs down the rest of your suit so it hangs limply around your knees, allowing your thighs to part just enough for Edward to fit his big hand between them. Feeling how soaked you are, he grits out a moan as he explores your folds. Letting out a soft moan yourself, you shiver at the villain’s touch as he circles your clit.

“You’re drenched…is this what you do to all the criminals you fight? Strip when you lose the upper hand?” he taunts, moving his fingers faster over your throbbing heat.

“No…of course I don’t…” you grit out, whimpering again at the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Good. I’d carve out their eyes you know.” He whispers darkly, and despite your conscience your pussy throbs at his words. “I don’t think I like the idea of anyone else knowing how slutty you are.”

“I’m not slutty.” You try and argue, but it’s hard for those words to carry any weight when you’re shivering and moaning under his precise touch. He has the audacity to laugh in your face.

“I think we both know that’s not true darling. Slutty for me, the criminal who you came here to stop. If only Gotham knew the truth about their prettiest hero.”

At your embarrassed noise, he brings his fingers down lower to play with your hole. “Do you want me here?”

Not having the strength to resist your desires anymore, you nod pathetically as he smirks. You expected him to make you beg or grovel, but instead he sinks two fingers into your cunt, your legs shaking at the slight stretch.

“You're prettier when you’re polite.” He says as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right so you moan louder for him. Clenching around his digits, you hold on to his shoulder, his eyes full of concentration as you look up at his face.

“Fuck…I didn’t expect you to be so-“

“Good at this?” he taunts, continuing the steady pace of his fingers, “I’m hardly a blushing virgin dear. I know how to make a woman feel pleasure.”

“That’s surprising.” You can’t help but mock, which causes him to hum and reach his hand around your neck once more.

“Don’t be a brat. You were doing so well.” He hisses, pushing against your g spot. “I could just stop, leave you here all wet and wanting and pathetic.”

You think there’s a good chance he’s bluffing, but with how much your clit aches with desire you decide you aren’t willing to take that risk. So you shake your head. But that isn’t enough for him.

“Say sorry.”

You whine, but he stops the movements of his fingers, leaving them deep inside you without moving. His grip on your neck tightens slightly as he stares you in the eyes.

“I said, say sorry. Surely you aren’t that dumb that you don’t know how to apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble quietly, so he pulls out his fingers and gives your cunt a harsh slap.

“Is that it?” he taunts, reveling in how you cried out at the slap, “I could barely hear your little whisper. Say it again, say it properly. Say ‘I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.’”

Shame and embarrassment burn throughout your body like a wildfire, his words the match you’d practically lit for him. With a shaky breath, you repeat it.

“I’m sorry Mister Nigma, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, just forces his fingers back inside your dripping heat roughly. Moaning, you relax as best you can with your ass pressed against the back of a rather uncomfortable sofa and enjoy his slender fingers filling you up. His pace is intense but steady, his eyes firmly on yours as he watches your reactions to every little change in pace or angle. It’s like he’s operating a machine, pressing the right buttons and connecting the right wires to achieve his intended results.

When his other hand lets go of your neck to rub messily at your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your moans getting breathy and desperate. His smirk grows as he notices, feeling your thighs start to shake and your hips move.

“Getting close?” he asks, and you nod desperately. You can feel the pleasure nearly reaching the pinnacle, just a few more thrusts of his fingers and…oh god you’re going to-

He pulls his fingers out roughly, and his face is one of pure satisfaction as you whine pitifully at the loss of stimulation, not being able to cum as you gaze up at him. He laughs in your face, holding your jaw so he can look into your glassy eyes.

“Did you really think I’d just let you cum?” he chuckles again, squishing your cheeks together to further humiliate you, “oh you silly, silly girl. No, you aren’t getting that privilege until you earn it. And my dear, I think you’ll have to do a lot more than apologising in such a pathetic way.”

With a grin that betrays the fact he’s having the time of his life, he forces his wet fingers into your mouth so you can lick them clean. Not being given much of a choice, you suck them and look into his eyes from under your eyelashes. Once he deems them suitably clean, he pulls them out and wipes them crudely on your breasts, before gripping your arm and moving you to the correct side of the sofa. He pushes you down unceremoniously, before settling behind you as you get up on your hands and knees, not before he strips you of your suit completely and placing it with his gloves.

Hearing the sound of his belt being taken off, your thoughts are clouded by lust as you arch your back a little. He seemingly appreciates the submissive gesture, slapping your ass as he unbuttons his trousers.

“So eager.” He teases, and you feel his cock against your ass as he speaks. “Beg for me.”

With a shiver, you know that he’s being serious so you start to beg softly, not really used to it. In response, he pushes your thighs together and pushes his cock between them. Moving, he fucks your thighs as you realise your begging isn’t enough, moaning softly as your pussy coats him with your wetness. Each time you feel him brush against your clit, your breath hitches and your words stutter. But still you persevere, begging like you never have before, for him to fuck you, for him to make you his, for him to own you.

That word choice seems to be the right one, as he groans before positioning at your entrance and pushing in smoothly. Crying out at the long awaited feeling, your head hits the sofa cushion underneath you as he bottoms out, before pulling out and thrusting deep once more.

“So tight, bet it’s been a while, hm? If ever.” He taunts, moaning softly as he pulls out and watches his own cock disappear again inside your heat.

“I’m not a virgin.” You mumble, realising he’s doing to you what you did to him earlier, as you defend yourself rather pitifully.

He instead laughs and sets a rhythmic pace, gripping your hips to aid his movements. “Well you certainly act like it, acting like you’ve never begged a day in your life. Hard to believe from someone so…fuck…so submissive.”

You want to protest, really you do, but his pace just has you reeling from the pleasure as you let yourself be used by him. Moaning into the cushion muffles you, so he grabs your hair and tugs hard.

“Let me hear you, go on. Tell me how good I am.” He demands, his ego seemingly never satiated as he fucks you.

“You’re so good…so good sir.” You ramble, feeling yourself fall into the submissive head-space as your eyes grow more and more unfocused.

“Say the full thing dear…fucking hell…go on.”

You know what he wants, and the part of your brain that was telling you to resist, the part trying to remind you that this is a man who has brutally tortured and murdered people, who has terrorized your city, who has put your adopted brothers in death traps, it falls silent with every thrust into your cunt. So you do.

“You’re so good Mister Nigma, sir.” You whimper, your voice barely recognisable to your own ears. He seemingly is pleased with your words, letting go of your hair and fucking you harder. The pace and intensity make him sweat, quickly and clumsily tugging his tie off and shrugging his suit jacket from his shoulders, still finding the compulsion to place them neatly on the back of the sofa with your bra and suit.

“There, so much better when you listen to me.” He grits out, clearly struggling to keep his own composure. He’d never admit it of course, but he’s thought about this scenario more times than he can remember. Laying in his bed, not being able to sleep with a million thoughts and ideas running through his brain, but the most pervasively annoying being thoughts of you. Your voice as you snap back at his taunts, your body and how it looks on his screens as he watches you beat the robots he’s painstakingly made, or the men he hired to protect his assets. All of it usually leading to his hand down his trousers, furiously pumping his length to the thought of putting you in your place, of showing you that he is the greatest mind Gotham has ever seen, and you’ll respect it, as he’d cum all over his hand and torso.

Now here you are, practically putty in his hand as he thrusts into your cunt like a toy. He’ll never grow tired of this memory, no matter how debilitating it’ll become when he’s forced to work, or worse, confront you again. He channels all those emotions into spanking your ass, the gasp like music to his ears as he rails you.

You’re so desperate for the orgasm he cruelly denied you that you sneak your hand down to rub your clit, which of course he notices. But he can’t seem to stop you, as he keeps thrusting over and over again.

“So good for me, so good for the Riddler.” He says, uncharacteristically breathy and lower pitched. You just nod in agreement, little moans escaping you. Feeling his orgasm barreling towards him, he grips at your neck once more, desperate to feel your life in his hands again.

“How about I let you cum this time, wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah? Say thank you.”

Your clit throbs at the permission, getting closer and closer to the edge again as you moan. “Thank you Mister Nigma, sir.”

With that title, he moans and rails you without mercy, clearly chasing his own pleasure. That doesn’t matter though, as you’re cumming around his cock regardless, making a mess of the ratty sofa beneath you. In a couple of thrusts, he buries himself inside you with a guttural groan, and you’re so fucked out you don’t even have the energy to lambaste him for cumming inside you. That’s a problem for tomorrow, as both of your heavy breathing's sync up.

He pulls out of you reluctantly and with a soft hiss, looking at your ruined hole with a small amount of pride in his chest. In all honesty, he didn’t expect to get this far with you, so now seemingly you’re both a little out of your elements. With an uncertain hand, he brushes the hair out of your face, looking at you curiously, as if to gage what you’re going to do.

“I still hate you, you know.” You mumble halfheartedly, moving a little to lay back on the sofa.

He chuckles, soft and light. “I know dear.”

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[kaiserouo]

HOLY FUCK

www.doctorentrati.com

also im playing with it rn so spoiler below. expect editing

fuck i feel like im playing ctf

manually delete the is-hidden class works

OH NO... why don't you encrypt the content with the password...

I mean you can check the password by comparing it with hash and use the real password to encrypt and decrypt the thing... your javascript code is indeed obfuscated, if you change something in the encryption algorithm to make it not trivial to solve the password (e.g., change AES's subByte table) then I would rather actually solve this than de-obfuscate the code.

just don't show everything when people inspect the website okay

yes very protected

---https://www.reddit.com/r/Warframe/comments/1gc4zwc/arg_thread_reference_post_to_everything_use_this/

oh nevermind they still kinda did that

also wtf i definitely can't figure most of these out

someone said it's only possible to unlock the first file and i can kinda see that

so they do use a hash to do the password thing (which is standard), aaaand the rest of the hash is null so the files are not meant to be solved for now

oh no... i looked at the wrong file, this is not obfuscated and is the main logic. Now I don't know what the file "/qwNqpl0pN06NLnVE4I6T5Lzd/YOEpQthrVXt0SY/IntzETIaAwk/Kxd/AAlodTlAB" does.

That's why you should obfuscate the code guys the correct email reply is literally written in there

i guess you don't need to use the hint in ascloid just type "crypt" and it still works

seems like the rest of the hotbar literally does nothing. you can't unlock it or anything, i guess it's for the later versions of the ARG

we do have the hash... i wonder if we can z3 brute force other passwords...

okay that's it. i mean i didn't really solve anything, other people already solved this. i think i have the most fun looking through the source code... which doesn't take much time compared with the time i took looking for the password the legitimate way and failed miserably

also please obfuscated your code DE i mean if this is a proper ARG we shouldn't able to cheat like this. at least not that simply

okay... i guess brute force with z3 is harder than i thought. i don't know how much time solving "khrajahuxata" would take and i'm already limiting my search space in lowercase letters only

[sasheneskywalker]

This video is not about The Batman | Renegade Cut

Transcript [emphasis added by me]:

"Okay, stop me if you've heard this a million times before. Why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals? That's a pretty loaded question huh. The most common counter argument is: Batman has the Wayne Foundation. Don't you read the comic books? The statement in this counter argument is technically true. The fictional narrative of Batman in the comic books and sometimes other media references the Caped Crusader’s charitable donations. But this counter is only meaningful if we're talking about whether or not the fictional Bruce Wayne gives some of his fictional money to a fictional city which we're probably not. The question “why doesn't Batman use his wealth to solve poverty instead of punching criminals” is not a condemnation of Batman as if he were real, like a real guy. It's not some righteous indignation about some man, some bibatted man who doesn't exist. It's only a question about our values in the real world. This question about Batman is not about Batman. The question is really “can there be justice under capitalism”? 

Capitalism does not resolve poverty. Capitalism simultaneously enforces poverty through stratified economic classes and income disparity all the while criminalizing poverty to protect private property interests of the ruling class. Marginally improving conditions under capitalism does not serve to resolve capitalism but to stabilize the labor class enough to continue labor. Furthermore many crimes are the products of poverty and crime cannot be resolved under a system that enforces and criminalizes its own poverty. The contradictions of capitalism cannot be resolved. This question about Batman is not really about judging or exonerating Batman. Thus the answer to this question cannot be about judging or exonerating Batman either. 

I mean I think we all love Batman. Or we all hate Batman, I can't keep up. The Wayne Foundation counter-argument applied to the real world is simply another way of saying that this is the best we can hope for. Capitalism with a somewhat more socially conscious ruling class. A teeny tiny bit less Jeff Bezos and a centimeter more Oprah Winfrey. And that's it. Isn't this perspective the result of capitalist realism? Thinking that this is as good as it gets and we should all ever expect. We enter into our viewing of The Batman with this cultural bias about our relationship with wealth and the wealthy. A presupposition that helps hold up the narrative and a presupposition that could be deconstructed. Isn't this fun? Talking about art, seeing how art relates to reality, trying not to get too defensive about it. I enjoy this.

Let's talk about film criticism.

A structuralist approach to film criticism puts more emphasis on the fixed nature of language conventions and code to convey particular information. A structuralist analysis relies on the premise that communication has a specific goal or meaning and that finding that meaning through signifiers and the signified is the essence of analysis. Here is that tree you've seen before. A structuralist analysis of The Batman would emphasize how Batman's character arc fits into the pre-existing conventions of film, how well it adheres to this and how much it subverts it. 

A post-structuralist analysis to film criticism recognizes that words and images we choose to convey information are imperfect and that this communication contains contradictions. A post-structuralist approach to film criticism might emphasize the pre-existing cultural biases of the creators of the film as well as the presumption of those cultural biases in the audience. For example the Batman addresses race and class but spends more time ignoring grievances related to race and class than it does acknowledging these grievances. Mere absence is not immediately meaningful but absence as contrast might be. For example the absence of a floating pink elephant in The Batman might not be meaningful to a post-structuralist because there is no opposite of this, no signifier of its contrast. But the absence of significant commentary on criminogenic conditions in a film that frequently references crime and comes to its own conclusion about how to resolve crime might be meaningful to a post-structuralist. 

At the risk of being reductive a structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the author signifiers and signified as the primary subjects of examination whereas post-structuralist analysis of a film places greater emphasis on the viewer, the existence of the viewer, and the viewer's world between the signifiers and signified. Just to be clear this is not a complete definition of post-structuralism or a proper lesson. Also, in reducing these terms this way I run the risk of inaccuracy but this is also, you know, a youtube video.

Here is a structuralist approach to explaining The Batman. In the beginning of the film Batman's inner monologue mythologizes crime in Gotham City. We experience it as a force of nature or human nature, something in the air or something in our blood, but in either case inevitable. Batman is skeptical of our humanity and believes more should be done to fight crime. Batman is visually represented as shadow, as the darkness of night. His first targets are thrill-seeker criminals performing unambiguously vindictive acts on complete strangers. Randomized violence with no goal except the act itself and perpetrated by a stylized evil visage that is completely dehumanized. When his voice over monologue is complete, his first spoken words are “I'm vengeance”. At the climax of the film Batman recognizes that vengeance is not the same as justice. Batman leads his people out of darkness and toward the light, visually represented by his torch and finally by the dawn that shines on them on this new day.

A structuralist analysis might conclude that justice outweighing vengeance is the authorial point of the film or the message of the film or the meaning of the film because it has laid bare at the climax where it's supposed to be and because it is foreshadowed many times and that this is the progression of the protagonist's character arc. It was dark but now there is dawn. Justice has been served, Batman is a hero, a pseudo-biblical figure that leads his people from bondage and sends them towards the heavens. Whatever else this is, rest assured that this is justice. This is what the movie is trying to say.

A post-structuralist approach might say that at the end of the film Batman uses different words to describe Gotham City and his mission and he is visually represented differently but he still mythologizes crime as a force of nature or human nature. Within the film there are multiple explicit references to income inequality and a passing reference to a comorbidity of racial inequality and income inequality. But this is all practically suppressed by what Batman tells the audience, both before and after his character arc is complete. The audience for The Batman is expected to have a cultural bias about criminogenic conditions, the circumstances that produce crime. The Batman ritualistically moralizes crime and speaks in platitudes that are originally dark, eventually uplifting but always vague and most importantly: apolitical. 

The passing reference to the conditions that create crime are covered under the banner of an apolitical unity that tends to ignore disparate racial and economic power dynamics. 

In the film the company called the Gotham Renewal Corporation, originally intended to assist Gotham City, has been corrupted by a series of criminals. In the end these criminals are exposed or pushed out and the day is saved. This relies on the presupposition that our systems are good and are only corrupted by bad apples. What is vengeance in The Batman anyway? Is Batman saying he simply needs to exercise a lighter touch? Because it feels like what Batman is instead pushing back against is corruption and radicalism. Corruption in the form of Renewal and radicalism in the form of those who oppose Renewal. The Riddler and his people and Catwoman's willingness to use more violence than Batman is willing to use. Radicals are portrayed as only seeking vengeance instead of justice and the audience's presuppositions about our systems and about radicalism are what makes this ring true to them in the end. 

In The Batman justice seems to be working within our institutions. The Batman recognizes corruption and acknowledges corruption but recognizing corruption is not a condemnation of our institutions because corruption is the institution not working as intended. Recognizing corruption only condemns corruption and may still tacitly endorse the institution. But what if the institutions working as intended create and enforce poverty? What if they create and enforce injustice? What if they must be replaced by something more than reform, something that requires more than voting? Well, that's radicalism and in The Batman that is portrayed as vengeance not justice. For only within our institutions can justice be found, no matter how much evidence exists to the contrary. The mayor was dirty but the new mayor will not be dirty. The bad politician is bad but the good politician is good. Trust in liberal democracy.

The police initially do not trust Batman and there are dirty cops but Batman tells Jim Gordon that he's a good cop. The bad police are bad but the good police are good. Trust the police. The wealthy criminals control much of Gotham but Bruce Wayne has sway in Gotham as well and Alfred reminds him of his responsibilities. The bad billionaires are bad but the good billionaires are good. Trust in capitalism. 

Batman also operates outside the system but in the end he is part of the system, an ally of the system with all that that implies. Trust in our institutions. Corruption and radical politics are both outside of the system in equal measure and in the center an apolitical unity that ignores the actual causes of crime and indeed the causes of injustice.

Is this a good take? Is this a bad take? I  don't know. As always that is entirely for Twitter to decide. To clarify, I'm not judging who is right within the confines of the narrative that they made. The Riddler kills a bunch of people and floods a city. I'm analyzing why the narrative looks like this in the first place and what it says about our culture. The Riddler is not right but the Riddler is also not real. The portrayal of his fight for the downtrodden perspective as radical, dangerous, terroristic, and motivated only by vengeance and not justice is a choice by the filmmakers. The conclusion of the film that basically serves as a love letter to the good people who reinforce our ultimately good institutions that exist to serve justice is also a choice. These choices do not necessarily have these intentions but finding authorial intention is not the goal here. These choices are worth thinking about because they reveal cultural biases and presuppositions that existed prior to the creation of the film and outside of the industry of film."

[laquiet]

So... I forced my friend into watching Stranger Things (pt. 2)

I remember that I said we were on Season 2 the last post... Well, actually, we were on Season 3. I have NO IDEA what happened, it was some kind of delay in our brain, she simply said we were in s2 ep7 when we were actually on s3 ep2, AND I THOUGHT SHE WAS RIGHT LOL

We spent like, 20 minutes trying to undertand why she seemed to remember stuff about the episodes she supposedly had already seen.

SO... I'm gonna talk about her reactions on season 3

1. About Nancy and Jonathan

It was the highlight of season 3 for her, along with Max&El friendship. And it was REALLY FUN to see her talking about how they only do shit every damn time and don't actually solve shit... I... just look at it lool:

"Oh no, Jon and Nancy😭" "These two just keep all season trying to solve everything on their own and in the end they don’t solve anything🤡" "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE LOOOL" "EVERY DAMN SEASON THAT HAPPENS" "Guys, did you notice things go better when you're with adults? TELL THE ADULTS"

Plus, she said that in ep3, right after Will destroyed Castle Byers:

"I DON'T WANT TO SEE JON AND NANCY GETTING INTO TROUBLE FOR THE THIRD TIME IN A ROW! SHOW ME WILL, TELL ME HE'S FINE"

However, she really had a soft spot for Jancy. By the end of the season, when the Byers were moving, she said more than once that "they should get married already."

2. About the Spy Squad - Steve, Dustin, Robin and Erica (yes, she named every group)

"Well, they're already ahead of Nancy and Jon. Those two did investigations for 3 seasons and got nowhere, while these guys, in 5 episodes, are in a Russian bunker 🤡" "Damn, Robin got the Russian code right, huh"

My girl was impressed by Robin.

"Robin is really smart if she understood Back to the Future drugged"

That was one of the phrases about Robin...

Anyways, she loved her, praised how intelligent she was multiple times and got this close with shipping Steve and Robin, but she got happy when Robin turned out to be lesbian (she didn't think the writers would have the guts, lol).

And she kept saying "Dude, you were right, I really like Steve now", AND I TOLD HER SHE'D LOVE HIM (I mean, who doesn't?)

Also, she thought Erica was weird, but as soon as Erica said they were doing "child endangerment", Erica became one of her favorites, I'm sure of that. The only one with common sense.

3. About Max and Eleven

I can't say much, she just loved them a lot. She thought Max was being good when helping El with her relationship with Mike and helping her to figure out herself. But. Really irresponsible when it was about using El's powers. Recently, she said Max and El were her favorite duo, besides Will and Mike.

Now... I will divide this post into two just so it won't stay so long.

[centrally-unplanned]

If given unlimited power to dictate US domestic policy, what would be your top three projects?

(An ask from my long "things to respond to" list lol) Well this depends on what we mean by "unlimited". Like if you actually get handwave away the constraints of legitimacy and rivals to power, then in a certain sense politics is solved-by-cheat-code. If that applied I would simply become dictator for life with a democratic succession in place (since my predecessor won't have my magic) and rule amazingly, everyone would be better off, and they would not invent reasons to undermine my vision because I have "unlimited power", right?

So setting that aside, let us instead say I have a window of opportunity of a unified Congress & court system for my agenda, but within the normal constraints, will fade quickly, etc. I would primarily aim for structural changes - I would reform Congress & the Supreme Court, for one. Abolish the senate, implement voter reform (I think I keep candidate-voting over party voting, since I want to work "in the system" and I think it is fine, so stuff like rank-order ballots and multi-member districts). If I can swing it, I repeal the 10th Amendment - the default state should be the federal government has the authority to do things, times change, all state authority should derive from federal authority, not vice versa.

I pretty radically reform the Supreme Court - no more lifetime appointments ofc and all that, sure, but I also structure it to be more directly integrated into the government. If congress is debating a bill, the SC will directly consult on its legality, and when it is passed its constitutionality and major "points of debate" will already be decided. The "adversarial" legal system, while fine enough for criminal law, is awful for governance - I would do away with it for consultative approaches. But to go deeper than specific SC/Congress would, imo, but overly ambitious, and start breaking things.

Even though these are pretty radical if Congress & the governors all agreed to do it a la this magical premise, wider society wouldn't push back that. Most people either don't care about this stuff, or in fact actively don't like the current system. They would be more likely to stick, unlike "open borders" which would immediately face wide revolt.

That probably counts as three, but if not just for fun I abolish local zoning in its entirety and just copy-paste the Japanese zoning code system onto ours and have a central ministry control zoning for the entire country. Primarily for revenge.

[rmbunnie]

Red Hood Characterization

This is really long so I'm putting a cut here, I've been thinking about Jason Todd's character motivations and the question of whether or not his actions are based in a Moral Code (I don't think so, not to say he's without any morality) and I talk about that in more depth here.

I saw someone say on here that Titans: Beast World: Gotham City was some of the best Jason Todd internal writing they'd seen in a while, and I've been a Red Hood fan for 8 years or so now? pretty much since I read comics for the first time, so I went and checked out and I thought it was good! The way the person I saw talking about it as if it was rare and unusual made me wonder though, because as well-written as i thought his stances on crime were, there wasn't really anything in it that went against the way I conceptualize Jason?

This kinda plays into a larger question I've been thinking about for a while with Jason though, which is that, do people think that the killing is part of a fundamental worldview that motivates him a la batman, and that worldview is the reason he does the things he does?? Because 8 years ago i was a middle schooler engaging with fiction on the level that a middle schooler does, so I simply did not put much thought into it beyond "poor guy :(" but ever since I actually started trying to understand consistent characterization, I don't really see Jason as someone who's motivated by a moral code in his actions the way batman or superman is!

tbh my personal read is that he's a very socially-motivated guy, his actions from resurrection to his Joker-Batman ultimatum in utrh always seemed to me like every choice made leading up to his identity reveal was either a. to give him the leverage and skill necessary to pull off his identity reveal successfully, or b. to twist the knife that little bit more when he does let Bruce find out who he is. Like iirc there's a Judd Winick tweet like "yeah tldr he chose Red Hood as his identity because it's the lowest blow he could think of." And I think that's awesome, I think character motivations rooted so deeply in character's relationships and emotions are really fun to read! I also think it's where the stagnation/flatness of his character comes from in certain comics, because if his main motivation is one event in one relationship that passes, and he is not particularly attached to anything in his life or the world by the time that comes to pass, it's a little harder to come up with a direction to go with the character after that, because there isn't much of a direction that aligns with something the character would reasonably want? But I do think solving this by saying "all of the morally-off emotionally driven cruelty he did on his way to spite Batman was actually reflective of his own version of Batman's stance that's exactly the same except he thinks it's GOOD to kill people" isn't ideal. To be fully honest, it seems to me like he never particularly cared one way or the other about killing people to "clean Gotham of crime," he just did everything he could to get the power necessary to pull off his personal plans, and took out any particularly heinous people he encountered along the way (like in Lost Days.) Not to say I think the fact he killed people keeps him up at night anymore than everything else in his life events, I just never really thought he was out there wholeheartedly kneecapping some dude selling weed or random guy robbing a tv store for justice.

Looping wayyy back to my question, Is this (^) contradictory to the way he's written/the overall average perception of the character? Because like I enjoyed his writing in Beast World i have zero significant issue with anything there, I just didn't believe it would be a hot take, like yeah, that is Jason. It's been a while since I've read utrh and lost days, but I don't think my takeaway directly contradicts either of those too bad iirc. Idk all this to say I think Jason killing and being alright with killing is an obvious and objective fact, but i guess i've always seen it as more of a practical tactic than a moral belief, and I think taking the actions made during the lowest points of a character's life where he is obsessively focused on this ONEEEE thing and trying to apply it as a Motivating Stance to everything he's done after that, doesn't really follow logically for me.

[cosmerelists]

If Cosmere characters had mundane hobbies...

And by “mundane” I just mean “non-extreme” (aka, no base jumping, no paragliding); we’re talking, like, doing puzzles or going for a pleasant hike. If all these hobbies existed and Cosmere characters weren’t busy fending for their lives all the time, what might they get up to?

1. Szeth: Frisbee golf

We already know that Szeth is great at paintball; I just feel like he’d be weirdly good at frisbee golf as well.

2. Renarin: Speed Rubik’s Cube

Renarin likes to fiddle and have something for his hands to do--I think solving a Rubik’s Cube would be fun for him. And I threw in “speed” (aka, trying to do it as fast as possible) because Renarin loves to jump into things wholeheartedly.

3. Kaladin: Indoor Rock Climbing

Kaladin has already gone rock climbing in two books--he makes his own rock wall in the chasms in Book 1 and climbs down Urithiru in Book 4. He even knows that he should be using “rock dust” for his hands. I think some nice, non-extreme, indoor rock climbing would be good for Kaladin. Bonus: he’s not afraid of heights!

4. Shai: Stamp Collecting

(I’m sorry)

5. Eshonai: Hiking

Eshonai loves to go out into the woods and explore, see new places and people and things. I can see her getting into hiking.

6. Raoden: Coding

Before he even had powers, Raoden already liked to memorize Aons--and from what I understand, AonDor is basically coding. 

7. Tien: Rock Collecting

I mean, this is literally just canon. I have to imagine that he’d also enjoy whittling since that is again, simply canon. 

8. Shallan: Crochet

Okay, so Shallan does already have hobbies in canon: like drawing, for example. But I think she’d also enjoy crochet--all those patterns coming together, her Spren humming excitedly...

9. Adolin: Sewing

Even while trapped in Shadesmar, Adolin is able to sew himself a new outfit. If he had time and materials, he could definitely make some cool clothing. 

10. Mare: Gardening

I mean, she loves flowers. If she were alive when her planet could support flowers, I think she’d love to grow some.

11. Sixth of the Dusk: Birdwatching

If he wasn’t, you know, desperately trying to survive at all times, I feel like Sixth of the Dusk might enjoy some nice, relaxed birdwatching. 

12. Wax: Puzzling

Normally Wax is putting together the pieces of deadly mysteries that will impact the fate of his planet. Maybe he’d find it a nice change of pace to just put together colorful cardboard instead!

13. Rysn: Extreme Couponing

Listen, Rysn once leapt off of a cliff to talk to a god to make a deal. Clipping coupons would at least have the advantage of being safer than that, no matter how “extreme” she gets.

14. Rlain: Amateur Radio

Amateur radio tends to use morse code, which is a form of communication Rlain might find comfortingly rhythmic. Plus, amateur radio lets you connect with people, but no one can see you or judge you for being a crab person. 

15. Vin: Parkour

Even without powers, I can see Vin running across buildings and climbing things she’s not supposed to climb. I think she’d have a good time.

16. Jasnah: Crossword puzzles

Yes, I am basically calling Jasnah a nerd here, but also, I think she’d probably really like crossword puzzles--knowing things, understanding obscure trivia, solving puzzles that aren’t about the end of the world...

17. Dalinar: Tunnelling

I dunno if this is just a Reddit phenomenon, but apparently some people just really like to dig long tunnels underground? And Dalinar sure had a great time digging out that latrine that one time. Perhaps that was a sign that his true love is burrowing deep, deep underground.

18. Taravangian: Fantasy Football

I don’t know a whole lot about Fantasy Football, but I believe it involves creating your own imaginary team of players and then using their actual, real-life performance to get points. So you have to be good at predicting how people will act, skilled at long-term planning, and have a deep desire to win. It’s like Taravangian’s diagram, only nobody (hopefully) dies!

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

Since my adhd is acting up again and I can't analyze the remaining characters in much detail, imma throw in every character's mbti & enneagram (+ a little explanation for the stuff I didn't already talk about)

Clover: INFP 1w9 (their idealism and wanting to do what's good (to them) is TOO STRONG; strong enough for the kid to die for this cause; that's why I'm giving them a combination that's got such strong morals)

Dalv: INFJ 5w4 (why 5 instead of 4? Because I feel like he's more focused on understanding & knowledge (about who his "mysterious friend" was), than on individualism. Although, he's shown to want to express himself creativity. That's why I'd give him a 4 wing)

Martlet: ISFP 9w1 (she's all about her own values, just like Clover; that's why the two of them have a final battle in the Vengeance route. I'd call it a "battle of moral values" Is it right to kill more monsters than necessary instead of simply fleeing after Clover killed five? And no, just because she's friendly doesn't make Martlet an extrovert; I think she leads with Fi and not Se, for the reasons I just gave)

The 9w1 is bc she's peaceful and relaxed, but with a strong moral code

Starlo: ESFJ 3w2 (that 3w2 was always clear as day to me: he puts on an image to make himself look/feel cooler, but he also cares about making others happy)

Ceroba: ISFJ (still trying to figure out if she's more of a 4w5 or 1w2. Personally, I'd go with 1w2 because I've read these people focus too much on what's wrong (Kanako falling down, Chujin being dead), they become moody (this is pretty evident whenever she gets annoyed with anyone throughout the game); refuses to be cheered up (subconsciously, imo: no matter what Star tried to do, she was still stubbornly depressed). And at their best, 1w2s apparently become more fun and spontaneous. Now, we don't see this in-game since Ceroba was at her worst, but based on the picture with her and Starlo as teens, she DOES NOT seem withdrawn like a 4w5)

I don't really see Roba as being motivated to be her authentic self, either. She wants to do good (for monsterkind). The other reason I don't think she's 4w5 is because of what I've read about this type's growth: they become more logical and disciplined, gain more motivation to get things done and follow through. I feel like Ceroba already had all this, and had to take the first step into becoming the more fun-loving monster she used to be so long ago.

ISFJ, because dominant Si (too focused on the past), and what she needs to do is realize that there are different ways to go about things, not just one (inferior Ne)

Axis: ISTJ 6w5 (yeah, this guy just wants to do his job, doesn't seem to care about power and prefers to solve things alone, that's why I over E. With the enneagram, at some point I thought he'd be a 1w9, but when I read about 6w5s, I'm now leaning more into that one: reacts, plans & acts when stressed (this is how he is throughout the entire section), emotionally intense (when he's mad it DOES show), wants to please authority figures (Chujin in this case), and values security)

[spiralsublime]

G13 with an innocent reader? Or maybe a reader who seems innocent but who won’t fall for his presumably manipulative behavior AT ALL.

(ps I’m really happy you’re doing dimension 20 x reader you made my day!)

(of course this is so fun for me, i'm glad that other people seem excited for it lol, i could probably do this for so many of their seasons lol)

but i love the idea of G13 and someone who matches him in not being played by his dumb shit! look, this lanky, greasy tech nerd is terrifying conceptually to these government organizations and these big realms of space. but to a normie who is not involved in the underground and has a basic job?? oh, this is just a dweeb, who is handy with fixing things.

The Beginning

G13 is so invested in the underground that I think he forgets that he is actually a person existing. So he is just locked into his laptop, headphones on, typing away. People are assholes, he is an asshole, this is how the world works.

I think he would have an immediate issue with people he thinks are attractive, assuming that everyone thinks they are attractive and thus they must be assholes who get everything for free.

But obviously, that's not fair. I think kindness would be the beginning and end of it.

Imagining those goofy animatic of you smiling and his glasses fogging over as he blushes.

G13 solves some (painfully basic to him) tech issue for you and after he deep dives on how sweet you are.

The Not So Good Middle

Look, this motherfucker is a hacker bad guy who owes nothing to no one. He jumps through tech hoops to learn your schedule and more information about you to try and make sure to set up a good meeting situation.

I do think you notice, but it is normal to see people around the city. Likely a joke or two about a small world or maybe you thank your lucky stars that a tech wiz happens to be around because your dog shit tech is always breaking.

He is focused on trying to just be in your presence. Maybe he is talking around trying to basically take you on a date without ever asking.

I think the first show that his manipulation bits won't work, will be in this moment where you call him out. ("You know, you could just ask me out instead of trying to make me ask you or hoping we cross paths.")

Boundaries Made By Flat Acknowledgements

Look G13 is used to talking in code and dancing around realities. This is not how normal people expect to have to interact. I think he isn't used to hearing simply "No".

Just him pushing for you to hang out alone with him more instead of previously made plans. "Aw, baby, thank you for wanting to hang out with me, but let's do that tomorrow." A kiss to the forehead and the man is SPUTTERING.

He tries to be shitty and you grab your bag and stand. "Sorry, it looks like you are pissed with work and taking it out on me. I'll let you cool down."

Just deftly keeping your own space and boundaries. But also you are expicit with helping to find his own boundaries to make sure you are doing right by him and it is INSANE for him.

Miscellaneous HCs

His other hacker friends do Not believe that you are real. For sure they think that G13 made you up.

G13 may understand tech to an insane degree but this man is helpless at basic games. He does not understand how to do crosswords or solitaire and he gets pissed when he tries.

The first time you kiss him he literally panicked and dropped his glasses with how fast he moved back. He then fumbled when you apologized for scaring him. (The second kiss was better.)

He does know how to cook the bare minimum, but only in his own kitchen because he modded all his appliances. (Your microwave was never the same after the first time he slept over.)

Even after dating for years, he blushes when you kiss his cheek in public. He is overly smug about holding your hand in public.

He does bitch about you not having enough security measures in place.

He is always super cold (this man is anemic, I just know it) so he is always shoving his cold ass hands under you to warm up. Big cuddler unless he is focused on a job.

Only you are able to coax him from work so he can remember to eat during projects.

I think I'll pause here, but GOD, I have so much more with more specific things. -- see my other x-reader things

[ceruleaneclipse]

This may sound silly but I've decided to try and solve the Journal 3 ciphers by myself.

As in, I started this past hour.

I'm more worried about the symbols than the Caesar, Atbash, and A1Z26 codes, considering I have enough faith in myself to somewhat more easily solve them.

I'm really excited to do this by myself, I know that everyone and their grandma have solved them but I'm silly and full of hubris.

I've never heard what the answers to the codes were (I think except for one?) and solving all of this alone means more to me symbolically, so I'd be lying if I said I was simply doing this for fun.

Uh... more later. Watch me spiral into insanity or whatever.

[gayarograce]

I'm suddenly just like, really interested in the computer science of scrabble. Like, ok, problem: given a board and a rack of tiles, what's the highest scoring move? Perhaps more interesting, what's the most efficient way to find the highest scoring move? I have a vague idea on how to solve this problem, but idk it's kinda fun to just sit and think about.

Now suppose you play a whole game of scrabble, always selecting the highest scoring move. This is a greedy algorithm. It'll certainly probably score decently well (and, I would guess, handily beat most casual players) but greedy isn't the best strategy for scrabble. My guess is probably you'd want to employ some sort of minimax algorithm, which might not score as many points as greedy, but would likely win more consistently.

Hmm, maybe tomorrow I'll see if I can code scrabble all in one day and start trying to work through finding the highest scoring move, just to start. But as I said earlier, this is fun to simply think about!

[k1ngj0ve]

Random Metalocalypse headcanons

Nathan: I think hes bisexual (but hides it), is deeply emotional, likes and is kind to children but doesnt want any of his own (hopes someone else will have kids he can dote on), the only instrument he plays is piano (but not super well), is straight up the only one here who is actually A Goth, is deeply deeply insecure, has accidentally become a 'can only solve problems with threats' type due to that being how he dealt with bullying. Also he has ALWAYS had vaguelly prophetic dreams since childhood, but cant tell them apart from regular ones and cant always tell if they are good or bad, so he only sometimes does what they say

Skwisgaar: i made a long post about this previously but he has complete dylexia and due to his intense anxiety and his moms general belittling of mistakes he actually is WAY worse at english than it seems like he is and he sort of just muddles through and pretends. His english is much worse when hes thinking about it, which the others noticed, which is why they rarely correct anything he says because hell go silent for 3 days. Also hes bisexual (openly before being in Dethklok) and yes he IS some kind of god child but he probably WASNT appointed for the soul purpose of making babies Toki: not stupid! not 'mind of a child'. Just immature. I headcanon that he was not of-age when he joined Dethklok and someone in Dethklok (i havent decided who is funniest yet) had to legally adopt him to keep him in the country and they kinda forgot. He only hit 21 in season 1 and while he HAD been drinking before that he really started going overboard after it got easier. Also, skwisgaar taught him english (hence same pluralization quirk) but hes now much better at it. Despite his comments about 'superior scandinavian education' he didnt actually go to school and didnt learn to read or write until he was older, but hes very good with computer codes and math. ALSO his parents arent his real parents, he was thought to be a demon child born to a member of the flock with no husband and was adopted to be 'fixed' but ended up just goign towards demonic things since he thinks hes a demon. Is it true? idk. Murderface: Gay but also in-universe many many many many people are attracted to him. Hot people. Movie stars. gay men especially. Refuses to admit hes gay because it feels like 'giving in' to a thing that everyones always said about him. He grew up in Tomahawk with pickles but doesnt have the accent because he took after his grandparents. PIckles mom refuses to admit she knows murderface. ALSO that 'murderface expert' guy is making up at least half of that. he does bath he just has like skin problems and is too impatient to deal with them and too anxious about being made fun of to go to the doctor about minor issues like athletes foot. Hes in a secret highly emotional online relationship with a guy hes only seen in person once because of insecurity reasons

Pickles: trans or cis depending on my mood at the moment ;p Bisexual and knows it but doesnt knwo the word for it. A lot of health problems hes been diagnosed with but he always forgets about. Wears contacts (or just chooses to be blind some days). He is NOT Mollys son, actually, hes Calverts from a mistress which is why his mom hates him so much (also why his dad said he belonged in a 'garbage can', hes referencing that he wishes pickles mom had an abortion). yes of COURSE hes in love with nathan, he just like assumes its not possible and 99% of the time is okay with that. Ofdenson: for some reason i had a misunderstanding for many years that he had ALWAYS been part of the church of the black klok and so even now that i know its not true, i still prefer it. To me, this is why he is so fucking negligent-- in some way the klokateers and audiences must be a blood sacrifice for the apocalypse (or potentially to stave it off? unclear). Additionally he is largely responsible for the entire 'look' of the enterprise. I simply dont believe that half the shit in mordland were ever seen by dethklok or could even possibly have been conceived of by them, let alone asked for. My headcanon is he is the one that started the entire 'branding of the gears' thing and is responsible for the brainwashing (this i think has canon support at least)

[dhaaruni]

I’m a humanities person who spent high school struggling desperately to get Bs in math. And, despite being extremely white, I came from a household where that was not an acceptable grade

So I totally believe that humanities people tell themselves that STEM people don’t understand their fields as a coping mechanism. I used to tell myself that to feel better but I know loads of well read people who can’t do math to save their life but I’ve never met anyone who’s good at math and science but functionally illiterate.

I'm opening a can of worms by answering this ask so I'm not allowing reblogs but I kind of agree with you.

I'd say that at a place like Cornell, where everybody has to be a good student to get in, everybody in the College of Engineering or math/computer science major in Arts & Sciences can take a 3000-level Shakespeare class and get at least a B in it, assuming that they show up to class and do their assignments on time. But, there's no way in hell that most (not all) humanities majors can be put into like even a multivariable calculus class, which is the freshman year weedout class for engineers, and do equally well. I'm absolutely in the minority here as an English major that got an A- in multivariable calculus.

That aside from the fact that there are a lot of software engineers and data scientists etc. who read and write for fun! I'm a data analyst and I never shut up about what I'm reading and thinking about, and I'm a good writer! Everybody can communicate through the written word, even if they're not anywhere near Pulitzer-prize winning authors or as good at it as journalists are. There's no white-collar job in this day and age where you don't have to write emails, even a software engineer at Amazon or Google, and if your emails and slide decks explaining your work are total gobbledygook, you won't keep your job. But, do you really think that a writer for Vox codes for fun or knows how solve a differential equation?

The reason that this discourse keeps rearing its head is for two reasons:

Generally speaking, with exceptions of course, people who are successful in STEM make substantially more money than equally successful people in the humanities. A software engineer at Facebook that's right out of college makes more money than a ranking Member of Congress and about as much as a partner at a prestigious law farm, like the financial compensation is not comparable and everybody knows this.

The zeitgeist, whether it's the media or academia, is by and large run by people who are much better at the humanities than STEM, like it's the origin of the wordcel vs. shape rotator discourse and the wordcels have the final say simply because the shape rotators are so outnumbers among those who know what that is.

Does that make sense?