#code breaking

[thepastisalreadywritten]

•

Valerie Glassborow-Middleton (1924-2006)

[madam-bridget]

Code Breaking

Being a young man in today’s world is tiring. Not being comfortable in expressing your feelings, fears or hopes. Being force fed the code to masculinity and success, listening to the incels and the misogynists amongst us…..telling you what you need to do, how you need to take what you want…..and who to blame if you can’t get it.

A whole toxic subculture espousing “High Value Men”……and what it means to be one. The bullet points from that screen grab on X….apparently a mantra of promoting independence and strength.

So what the fuck were YOU going to do about it?

You wanted to flex your burgeoning masculinity. To prove you were a young lion who could hang with the older kings of the jungle. You wanted to control, dominate and be a man.

You could have tried to seduce the nervy young girl at work….or maybe try and see what the mousy divorced lady down the street had in mind….but no. You wanted the big fish, the strong women. Those who boasted about their feminine power over the male sex.

You had a point to prove and today was your coming out party.

The problem is junior, baby lion cubs can’t eat the large prey yet. They need Mummy lions to help feed them…..all silly boys do.

The hotel room was the best you could afford. The suit you bought nearly bankrupted you, but there you were. A handsome boy dressed like the high value man you aspired to be.

She was already waiting, a curvy blonde in her late 30s. Quiet, respectful, her soft voice immediately disarming you. She wasn’t the ball breaker Domme you were ready for.

Her smile was almost innocent, a weapon to put you at ease as she kissed you gently on the cheek.

Now the outfit. Let’s talk about the outfit. A sleek latex dress in cerise, with gold braiding. The long, patent boots gleamed in the light, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

What about it, junior? Are you high value now? How’s the swagger? How’s the independence? Did you still want to show her what a real man does? How he acts? How he takes?

I didn’t think so.

Her curves swayed in the tight rubber. The boots hypnotic as she sat on the bed and beckoned you over with her painted talons. Another kiss, this time passionate, aggressive. Her tongue darting into your mouth, her sweet scent making your head swim. The sudden and deft unzipping of your trousers. Your little cock swollen and already starting to dribble as her hand settled around your shaft and she pumped you dry.

Wasn’t long was it, boy? Didn’t take much to shoot your load and now your trousers were stained with cum….underwear too. But don’t worry, my lion cub. The Madam was prepared for this disappointing show.

Your suit and shirt had been neatly hung up and you now took your place at her booted feet. The change of underwear into the pink satin panties was a little uncomfortable……although not as uncomfortable as the matching silicon trainer cage locked on you. She grinned at you, her full, red lips and white teeth giving the look of a predatory big cat. It seems that your life lessons so far haven’t been correct. It would be her pleasure to teach you the reality of being a young man in this vile and putrid world.

Your freshly shaved face gave you the youthful look that you weren’t going for…..but I think we can agree, a splash of trampy red lipstick will do you no harm. As for those deeply intense green eyes? A liberal and humiliating application of eye shadow and mascara to bring the colour to life. The Madam looked satisfied enough as she placed her booted leg near your face.

No word needed as you slowly kissed and licked the patent leather.

Was there tears in your eyes? Oh no……we can’t have that makeup streaking can we? Best get your mind on something else.

How about the Madam coyly telling you she was changing into something more comfortable? Something more on brand? You could only slump in resignation as the jet black, veined strapon appeared. The Madam was still booted, and her pale skin stood out against the obsidian hued phallus she was wearing.

The pathetic throbbing of your imprisoned cock betrayed you in a most brutal fashion. The Madam’s hawk like eyes caught the movement and she stroked your hair with tender affection. Of course, she wasn’t going to enter you without lubing up her monster dick first. Another lesson for the modem man was about to be delivered as you gave the sloppiest blow job ever known. But it was academic as you gagged on the dildo…..it only needed to be warmed up after all.

When she took you by the hand, she gently pushed you face down on the bed and you felt the panties being taken down. The Madam thoughtfully provided a pair of her own fragrant underwear to hold in your mouth. We couldn’t disturb any patrons in the neighbouring rooms could we?

She entered gently as you cried and whimpered. A slow pegging stretching your virgin ass, as she ordered you to relax. It wasn’t perfect for your first time, but then what is?

Each code has to be gently broken. One at a time.

[bbghostbones]

The Bombe, Dmitri - the Code Breaker Bombe

I think I have figured out Stranger Things' underlying story. If there's not another ep or a meta doc then so be it. However-

I have long suspected some kind of NSA cryptologic/graphy history telling was going on in the background and truthfully I thought maybe who ever was consulting was just trying to hit as many cold war historical points in time since we're past the 40 year mark of 1983 and the plethora of events that brought the world to the brink iykyk.

NSA has been present through the show, as investigative agents, tower workers, or spooks like my own dad. The Elephant cage radar balls have made an appearance and telemetry something used for rockets and submarine warfare showed up in the fifth season. Cast photos were even at Teufelsberg, Germany.

So was the throw away line from Robin an error from someone using AI to write the script? The Enigma didn't win the war. The bombe did. The decryption bombe Alan Turing et al used to crack enigma. Or has the space time continuum been messed with just enough that germany did win the war and those wullenweber arrays never made it into Ft Meade, essentially deleting NSA from history and yanking away their stellar cold war history?

guess we'll see what happens on 1/12. I got to see the Bombe in Ft Meade. Hate to see it erased from existence.

edited to add: this would also explain Dr owens saying they're running out of time and Brenner being exasperated.

I don't know what this means for the rest of the show. If maybe this is just some rogue AI or with the blade runner refs if the kids were supposed to help with the NSA situation. I mean it's possible I am completely wrong.

Is it also possible Enzo-Dmitri IS Henry? There was something magical about his performance like his man of many faces role. This could also explain the conan sword suddenly appearing

Hello, Dmitri?

[petkittymeowmeow]

Halloween Spooktober Monster Month Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

MUST BE THE SEASON OF THE WITCH

MUST

MUST

MUST

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

Must Be. The Season of the Witch

TONIGHT WE RIDE!!!

Izz sleep on tings. I’m freeky af right now for you macADaddy I fucken sense you with me. All the feelers! You. Are. All. Up. On. Me! Like a virus a cold bug no fighting it both are in it for de long hall ol towing the line Toeing the line

Trawling for trouble on the dubble

toil and trouble

boil and bubble

Yes Dorothy, generally freeking

Halloween is Double speaking

drop the mic

[personwithatophat]

law of the virtues -Gaslight district

writing was flipped but can be seen around 12:21 on the gaslight district pilot vv dum bird block screen >:/

-Tophat

[bigglassess]

suzie, do you copy?

steve harringon x fem!oc

chapter 1 ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

masterlist

read on wattpad

Starcourt Mall hums like a neon-lit beehive, music echoing from every store, crowds pressing together in the cool air-conditioning, perfume and popcorn mixing into one strange but comforting summer smell.

Dolores Avery steps inside, parking her pastel bike with the many stickers she's acquired over the years pasted on the sides. Her dull green dress that she had taken out of her mom's closet clashes wonderfully with the mall's bright geometric patterns. She adjusts her oversized glasses and pushes a curl behind her ear.

It had been a slow morning at Family Video, the little rental shop in town that's taking a beating thanks to the shiny new Starcourt Video kiosk upstairs. She had worked there since she was 14. It was her first and only job she's had, and she really loves it there. With the new mall in town her boss had been sighing dramatically behind the counter for weeks, but he was certain that it would eventually fail and everyone would come running back to his treasure.

"Go take your break," he had said, waving a hand at her, she was fixing up her favorite part of the store, the musical section. "Maybe you'll learn something from our corporate overlords."

Dolores didn't need to learn anything. She just wanted to see her friends. Steve and her had reconnected since his abrupt visit last November, calling almost every day. When Steve got his new job at the ice cream show in the mall, she's come very frequently. Steve's co-worker, Robin Buckley, who coincidentally is in her English class at school, is a wonderful girl that Dolores can't believe she hasn't talked to more than a hi before. Now because of her frequent visits at their place of work they have clicked and deeply enjoy each other's friendship.

She winds her way past neon signage and laughing teenagers until she spots the familiar sight: Scoops Ahoy.

Robin is behind the counter, elbows propped on the glass, chin in her palms, looking utterly bored. Steve Harrington is attempting to stack sample cups into a little pyramid, failing spectacularly. Every time he gets to the eighth cup, the whole thing collapses. Dolores grins.

Robin spots her first, her whole face lighting up. "Lora!" she yells across the food court. Steve startles so violently he knocks the cup tower over again, hands flailing in protest.

Dolores walks up, leaning her folded arms over the glass. "Hi, Robin. Hi, Stevie."

Steve tries to recover his dignity, straightening the nautically offensive hat on his head. "Dee! Hey. Hi. You're... early. Or late. Or—" He clears his throat. "Hi."

Robin snorts. "Smooth."

Dolores smiles softly. "Slow day over at the video store," she says. "I figured I'd come visit my favorite sailors. Arrrg," she adds, crooking her arm toward her face in a pirate impression.

Robin leans forward conspiratorially. "Thank God. If I had to watch Harrington try to build one more Cup Tower of Doom, I was going to walk into the ocean. And by ocean I mean the water fountain."

"It's harder than it looks," Steve mutters.

Dolores tilts her head. "Is it?"

Steve raises his eyebrows, inviting her to try it for herself.

She steps around the side counter, gently pushes his hands out of the way, and begins building the tower with quick, delicate movements. Robin raises her eyebrows. Steve watches like she's performing a magic trick.

Dolores places the eighth cup. Then the ninth. When she finishes the perfect little pyramid, she dusts off her hands.

"There," she says.

Robin lifts both hands like a referee. "And the crowd goes wild!"

Steve stares at the cups, then at Dolores. "...How?"

"You just have to be gentle," she says, smiling with that soft brightness he knows too well. "And patient." His gaze lingers a little too long.

Robin coughs loudly. "Harrington, you're staring."

"I am not." He absolutely is.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Robin had slipped out, citing a desperate need for a cinnamon-sugar pretzel. The bell on the counter was silent, leaving just the hum of the freezers and the mall's music.

Steve leaned heavily on the glass counter, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Dolores meticulously reorganise the melted samples back into neat little rows.

"You're unnaturally good at this," he mumbled. "It's like you were bred for service industry perfection."

Dolores chuckled, not looking up. "I just like things tidy. It makes sense, you know? Like organising the tapes at the place I've been working at for three years. Everything has a place."

Steve sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair, mussing the nautical hat in the process. "Tidy. Yeah. My life is the exact opposite of tidy right now. Everything is just... collapsing."

Dolores finally stopped, her expression soft with genuine concern. "What's collapsing, Stevie? Is it the ice cream machines?"

"No, not the machine," Steve interrupted, leaning closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's everything. It's... dating. My luck. My general joie de vivre." He flailed a hand. "Look at me. I'm King Steve, right? But I haven't been on a decent second date in, like, eight months. It's brutal." Without releasing he had been failing without trying, maybe he didn't want to go out on dates with anyone except for someone particular.

Dolores tilted her head, her breathing sharpening. Trying to be supportive while still feeling her chest tightening. "But you're such a nice person, Steve. I don't understand."

"Nice is apparently the new boring," he muttered. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Maybe you're trying too hard to be something," she suggested gently. "You spend a lot of time worrying about being 'King Steve,' or being 'charming.' But you don't need a strategy."

Steve stared at her. "I don't need a strategy?"

"No," she said, leaning her arms on the counter and smiling that soft, genuine smile that made his chest feel strangely light. "When you talk about the kids, or when you complain about Robin, or even when you were building that impossible cup tower," she laughs, "you are so completely yourself. That's when you're charming."

She paused. "I think people just want someone to be themselves. Not a character. Don't worry about the second date before you've enjoyed the first. And maybe," she added, "find someone who doesn't care if you're a King or a Scoops Ahoy sailor. Just someone who likes you just for who you are."

Her eyes drifted down to the samples, and she brightened. "Oh! I should try the Pralines 'n Shame before Robin gets back. Can I?"

Steve, momentarily derailed from his existential crisis by her proximity and her sincere sweetness, just managed to nod.

"Yeah. Sure. Have... have all of it."

As Dolores eagerly scooped a small sample cup of the Pralines 'n Shame, Steve leaned back on the counter, his heart doing a slow, heavy thump against his ribs.

She is literally everything hes looking for.

The realisation was a punch to the gut. He is a complete idiot. 

He looked up just as Robin sauntered back through the entryway, clutching a huge cinnamon pretzel.

Robin took one look at Steve's dazed expression and Dolores's happy, focused concentration on her ice cream sample.

"Harrington," Robin said, chewing loudly. "You're staring again. And you look like someone just told you the answer to the test, but you can't figure out how to write it down."

Steve sighed, running his hands over his face in defeat. "It's worse than that, Robin. It's so much worse than that."

Dolores, delusional to the conversation that Robin and Steve are having adjusts the cup of ice cream in her hand. "I have fifteen minutes before my boss thinks I defected to the mall, and betraying him. Do either of you want to take a quick stroll."

Robin is already out from behind the counter. "Yes. We are leaving Harrington to die on this ship." She takes ahold of Dolores's arm and pulls her towards the shops entrance. She pulls up two fingers towards her forehead to salute her co-worker.

"WOAH—wait—what?" Steve sputters.

Robin moves her hand down to grab Dolores's hand dramatically. "Come on, Lora. You, me, and ten minutes of freedom."

Dolores laughs as she lets herself be pulled away. "Steve can handle it. Right, Stevie?"

Steve points at them accusingly. "If a child vomits on this floor while you're gone, I will leave it for you to clean up."

Robin calls back without turning around, "But you wouldn't let that happen. Would you captain?"

Dolores glances over her shoulder. Her smile is soft. "We'll be back in 10 minutes. I promise."

Steve stops mid-breakdown. "...Yeah. Okay." He put his hand out of the counter glass, hand suddenly slipping. Trying to play it cool. Ultimately failing. "I mean—cool. Whatever. No big deal."

Dolores's cheeks flush as she disappears around the corner with Robin.

Steve sighs, watching her go.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Oblivious to passing Robin and Dolores on their very 'scenic' walk Max, Will, Mike, and Lucas approach the mall entrance like a miniature hurricane. They were on a mission.

Max slams her hands on the counter. "Okay. Move."

Steve still caught in his new discovered reality blinks. "Move what?"

"You," Mike says flatly. "We need to get behind the counter."

Steve nearly chokes. "No. Absolutely not. You cannot—"

Lucas interrupts, "Shortcut to the movie theater. Duh."

"Shortcut?" Steve repeats, horrified. "Through here? No! I don't—"

"We're coming through, Steve. Dolores says it's okay," Max says with a smug grin.

Will looks like a walking question mark and opens him mouth like he is about to object, but Max gives him a sharp glare. 

Steve's face goes pale. "SHE DOES NOT—when has she let you through here? She doesn't even work here. Wait hold on, stop using her as an excuse for everything!" Now Will gets it. 

Before he can finish, the kids slip through behind the counter, completely ignoring him, weaving around ice cream machines. Steve flails in protest. "HEY—NO—STOP—YOU CAN'T—"

They vanish into the back hallway like gremlins, leaving Steve staring after them, shoulders slumped. The door bangs shut. The cup tower wobbles in sympathy, and collapses.

Steve groans. "Perfect. Perfect day."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

When Dolores and Robin return, still laughing over some private joke they would never let Steve in on. Robin nudges Dolores with her elbow.

"You really are the only one who can make him look like a five-year-old with a Lego set," she whispers, smirking.

Dolores chuckles, brushing a curl from her face. "Some of us are just naturally gifted in delicate engineering."

Steve waves weakly from behind the counter, already halfway through attempting to rebuild his cup pyramid. "Hey, dee. Have you let the kids into the back while i wasn't looking? Because they just came in here demanding I sneak them into the cinema." he calls.

"Um. No I have not. But you should let them. No harm, no foul. As I like to say." Dolores replies, grinning.

Robin who looks like a proud mom says, "They are smart little children. They know if they bring her up, Stevie here will let them do anything." She steps beside steve putting her hand on his defeated shoulders.

Steve doesn't confirm or deny, he just let's out a defeated sigh and makes very obvious eye contact with Dolores. 

A sharp, high-pitched screeeech ripped through the quiet atmosphere, instantly replacing the tension. Robin immediately grabbed the small, unauthorised radio she kept behind the counter. It was crackling with a bizarre, rhythmic noise. "It's doing it again," Robin muttered, tapping the casing. "It's consistent."

Dolores stepped closer, drawn by the sound. She frowned, her head tilted, listening. "That's not just static," she said softly. "It sounds... compressed. Like when you try to cram too much onto an old cassette tape. But those rhythms... they're intentional."

Robin's eyes widened. "Exactly! You deal with analog media—do you think it could be a code, masked by the compression?"

"It's too fast for traditional Morse," Dolores countered, pressing her ear to the speaker. "But those timed keys... they remind me of the electronic scores for some of those old Soviet films I catalogue. Very precise. Very... not-random."

Robin let out a triumphant gasp. "Not-random! So it is a message."

As Robin and Dolores dove into a flurry of excited, intellectual back-and-forth about signal masking and analog technology, Steve felt a deep mix of adoration and defeat. He looked at Dolores, realising she was easily the smartest, kindest, most interesting person he'd ever met.

"You know," Steve said quietly to her, forcing himself to break away from the radio talk. "You're right about the dating advice. I think I'm just going to stop trying for a while. It's too much effort. I'll just focus on... important things."

He let his eyes linger on hers, making the implied subject of "important things" perfectly clear.

Dolores's heart fluttered, and she quickly looked away, running a hand through a stray curl. She suddenly felt clumsy and overheated.

"Shoot" she coughs out, looking at the big clock on the wall, "I should probably head back," she mumbled, adjusting the strap of her bag. "My boss will have my head if I'm gone any longer. Wait- can I bring something back for him. Pretty please with a cherry on top."

"Good idea," Steve managed, watching her every movement.

She says her goodbyes, and just as she's made it out toward the exit, the lights flicker once, twice, and then snap off entirely. A collective gasp rises from the crowd; music screeches to a halt, and neon signs blink in confusion. The mall plunges into darkness, leaving only the soft glow of emergency exit lights and the occasional blinking fire alarm.

"Oh...uh...okay," Dolores murmurs, clutching her bag and ice cream a little tighter.

The hum of whispered complaints, shuffling feet, and distant alarms surrounds them. Dolores squints at the emergency lights, trying to make out shapes in the semi-darkness.

A few tense moments later, the lights flicker again, returning in a bright, cheerful wash. Neon signs blaze, music resumes, and the smell of popcorn and pretzels feels oddly comforting after the brief chaos. Teenagers cheer, clapping each other on the back, and Dolores lets out a sigh of relief.

She walked quickly out to her pastel bike. As she tried to balance the ice cream tub in one hand and swing her leg over the frame, her hand brushed the handlebars. The small metallic pin on her dress collar, a blue circle pin with the words "funky and chic," felt a sharp, brief tug, almost pulling itself toward the steel. It was just a weird, static-y flicker, but it made her pause. Magnetic interference? The thought of her damaged tapes flashed through her mind. She shook it off, attributing it to the weird power surge, and successfully balanced the ice cream as she rode back toward town.

By the time she reaches Family Video, her boss is tapping his foot impatiently behind the counter, muttering about late returns and overdue tapes. She braces for a lecture, but instead, he merely glances at her, one eyebrow raised.

"I...uh...brought ice cream?" she offers awkwardly, fishing into her bag.

He squints at her suspiciously.

"Ice cream. I got ice cream." She sings and hands him a small tub she picked up on the way back.

He examines it carefully, then scoops a small spoonful. His expression softens. "Ice cream, huh? Well... I do love ice cream. What flavour"

"Bubble gum." Dolores exhales, relief washing over her. "Thought you might like it."

He takes another bite, nodding approvingly. "Not bad, Avery. Not bad at all."

Robin, back at Scoops Ahoy, looked at the defeated figure of Steve Harrington, who was still staring at the exit. "You are a disaster, Harrington. She's worried about VHS tapes, and you're worried about whether or not you should marry her."

"Shut up," Steve whispered, but his eyes were still on the exit, hoping for one last glance of Dolores Avery.

ᯓ‎𝄞 ˎˊ˗ deacon blues by steely dan ᯓ‎𝄞 ˎˊ˗

[bookish-bee30]

The Birdhouse Code- Chapter 3

Adam Dalgliesh x OC

Chapter Summary- Dalgliesh meets Theo, who makes a proposal towards Adam.

Masterlist

Read on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/83915146

This story is made without the use of Al. I do not consent to having my story put into any ai generative software, to be translated or posted without my express permission. I do not claim to own the source material this story is based upon.

Chapter 3

Adam

Dalgliesh had spent the morning investigating the site and questioning witnesses. Most repeated the same story, but none could say how the niece managed to climb to the second floor. It bothered him. Eventually an officer spoke to him, saying that the hospital had called, saying that the niece, a woman by the name of Theodora Leyne, had awoken. Apparently she had asked to wait to make her statement until the drugs given to her by the hospital had left her system.

Smart, thought Dalgliesh, though he would've waited anyways. He would not want to risk the case falling apart if it ever came to prosecution. So he waited, until later in the morning. Leaving the crime scene, Dalgliesh was directed to the next town, where the local hospital was located.

It was a modern building, brutalist and efficient, not to Dalgliesh's taste. Especially considering the beauty of its natural surroundings. Once he parked in the lot, he straightened his suit jacket and walked to the front desk, where he addressed the receptionist.

"Commander Dalgliesh, here to speak to Miss Theodora Leyne."

The receptionist looked up, her glasses sliding up her nose as she did so, "ahh yes, Commander Dalgliesh. We are expecting you. One of the porters will guide you to the room and let Miss Leyne know you've arrived."

The receptionist pressed on a button and made a request for one of the nurses to see to Dalgliesh. He had to wait a few minutes but one of the uniformed porters came walking down the linoleum lined hallways towards him. She was young and smiling, with hair as bright as lemons. Adam gave a closed mouth smile and followed her down the halls and up in the elevator to Miss Leyne's room. The porter did not talk much, but she did express curiosity in the case, as apparently Rook's Close was not a place where crime occurred. Dalgliesh nodded, but the cynical part of himself inside said that in his experience, crimes occurred anywhere, especially behind closed doors. A town may be quiet, but that is often due to closed mouths. Quiet places often have the loudest secrets.

Eventually they came upon the hospital room.

"Just a moment, Commander Dalgliesh, I'll let Miss Leyne know you're here," said the porter with a gentle smile before she knocked on the door and walked in.

Beyond the door, Dalgliesh could hear the muffled voice of the porter and Miss Leyne. Within a few seconds, the porter opened the door and gestured into the room that she'd just left.

"She is ready to see you now, sir."

Dalgliesh gave his thanks and waited until the porter left before entering the room, closing the door behind him. The room was partitioned into six segments for other patients, but the spaces were currently empty.

'Not a busy hospital then.' Thought Dalgliesh.

He strode into the room and looked towards the one occupied bed. Theodora Leyne was sitting up in bed, her left arm in a sling, hands bandaged and eyes staring. She was a striking figure to behold even when sitting down, Adam thought. Dark hair and soft features. A kind looking face, a pretty face. But behind her eyes, there was a flintiness, something that told Dalgliesh that this woman was someone to watch. She looked like she was examining him.

"You're Dalgliesh?" Came Theodora Leyne's low melodic voice warily.

"I am." He replied, pulling out his badge for her to examine. She stared at it a little before giving a nod.

"You're younger than I thought," she remarked casually.

Dalgliesh quirked his eyebrow at her, "and how old were you expecting me to be?" He asked before gesturing to one of the seats by the bed, "May I?"

She nodded, her face inscrutable. She had small laugh lines beginning to form on her skin, which made Adam wonder for a moment what she would look like with a smile. He pushed down that thought and sat.

"Someone older. Someone who was probably old enough to fight in the war alongside my uncle."

"Your uncle was a veteran?"

"Of sorts," she smirked, something glittering cold and hard behind her eyes, "He was a personnel member of the Special Operations Executive. I'm sure he wouldn't like me bringing it up but you never know if information is important."

"That is true. Was he effected deeply by the war?" Adam asked. Normally he liked to keep his conversation precise, but this was not an official statement, he was trying to understand what was really going on underneath the mess of the crime. The mess of Morris Leyne.

Theodora brushed a tendril of her hair off of her forehead and sighed, "who wasn't?" She met his gaze. It struck Adam that she was probably not much younger than him. She most likely remembered the war, "but to answer your question, yes. I don't think the war ever really ended for Uncle Morris, to be perfectly candid. He had to be honourably discharged so that he could take custody of me when my father and grandparents were killed in the Blitz."

"And your mother?"

Theodora's mouth flattened, "She and my father were not married. When I was born, she gave my father full custody. I've never met her."

"I am sorry." Dalgliesh apologized.

"Don't be. If she didn't want to care for me, that was her right. It's better that a child be born into a loving family than one where it is unwanted. I may have been unexpected, but not unwanted by my my father's family. Uncle Morris ensured that I knew that as a child," Theodora explained.

"So your uncle raised you on his own?"

"Yes. With some help from some nannies over the years… he's my best friend." She had a wistful smile that suddenly broke off, Adam was sad for its disappearance. He didn't know why. "… Was. Was." She corrected herself.

"I am sorry for your loss," apologized Dalgliesh.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I have some questions for you if you don't mind."

"Are these the same questions as the ones the other officers asked me? Or are they different?" She asked.

"A bit of both," replied Dalgliesh.

"Alright. Where would you like to start?"

"With your entrance to the home. Why didn't you use the front entrance?" Adam knew it was an easy question but he wanted to hear her answers.

Theodora gave a snort. "I tested the door with the back of my hand. It was too hot to touch, so I tried thinking of another entrance," she met Adam's gaze, "my uncle was very focused on fire safety. After the loss of my father and my grandparents, I think he wanted to protect me. I only survived the first time miraculously, he didn't want to leave my safety up to chance."

Adam furrowed his brows, "If he was focused on your safety, why did you go in to rescue him?"

"It's what he would've done," she indicated, "Like I said, I don't think the war ever ended for my uncle. He raised me to look out for myself and others, training me in survival and self defence, as well as other skills. Uncle Morris always joked that he didn't want me to play hero, but in a way, I have known nothing else. I have only known his example."

Adam pondered her words for a few moments. The shape of them. He could imagine a younger version of Theodora, hair in plaits, gap toothed, tussling in the dirt, learning to fight, preparing for a war that was long finished.

"You have an observant and analytical mind, Miss Leyne."

She blushed, a pretty sight, which she tried to hide by coughing into her fist, "I'm a writer. I have to be."

"I see. The local officers tell me that you own a bed and breakfast, is that your main profession?"

She shook her head, "The opposite actually. I write for my living. I could afford to live on my earnings if I felt like it. I choose not to."

Adam was struck by that kinship between the two of them, how he had once considered giving up police work in favour of his poetry work. He did not choose to mention this. He wouldn't. He couldn't further tie himself to this woman.

"What do you write?" He asked in earnest, distracting himself.

Theodora gave a dark laugh. "Whatever sells. I look at the book market, see what's popular, and write based on what I see. It's mercenary I know, but it is how I've made money."

Adam nodded, "Did your uncle approve?"

"Of the writing? Yes. Of the fact that I write to please audiences rather than myself? No. He thought that I should pursue my writing as an art, not something that could be churned out for the masses. He was a learned man, my uncle, an academic; despite his unorthodox parenting towards me. The reason he was in SOE was because of his knowledge of antiquities and books. They found people like that useful: librarians, translators, archivists and the like."

"You're very open about his military history, not many people would feel they could do so." Intoned Dalgliesh.

Her steely eyes met his, accessing, "He requested you. Which means he must've believed you to be trustworthy enough to know his history. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have shared this so openly with you."

"Even if I asked?"

"Even if you asked. He was a private man. But he shared his stories with me and me only. He would not have regarded me sharing this information lightly. I don't know if that means anything to you, but it does to me."

Adam looked down at his lap and cleared his throat. He decided to change the subject

"How did you get upstairs if the front entrance was on fire?"

Theodora momentarily was taken off her guard. "The priest hole's staircase. Some previous owners were Catholic, had a priest hole and a secret room added in centuries ago. I think it was one of the reasons my Uncle bought the house."

Dalgliesh sat forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers in curiosity. He knew of priest holes and their role in protecting catholic priests in evading authorities, "We didn't find a priest hole in the wreckage."

"Was the hallway to the kitchen still intact?" Theodora questioned.

"Yes."

"And some of the upstairs above that area?"

"Yes… but it was inaccessible without the main entrance."

Theodora's mouth quirked up, "then the priest hole still stands. There's a hidden latch in the panelling. I used that to get up. I hadn't been in there since I was a child, but nobody forgets a secret passageway."

"Would you show us, once the crime scene has been fully investigated?"

"Absolutely. I want to help in any way I can… actually, getting back to why I asked the police to bring you here, my Uncle's last moments, he said a bunch of things that didn't make sense at the time. But now I wonder if you might be able to help me make sense of them. Or maybe it'll be helpful to you. I'm not sure."

"I'll try to assist, if you tell me the full story, I will whatever is in my power to solve what happened to your uncle." And he meant it. The victim, Morris Leyne, seemed to be a person of mystery. It would be a challenge for Dalgliesh to solve but he would take it.

Theodora nodded, her bandaged fingers smoothing over the sheets in front of her as she told her story from the beginning.

"His last words were 'All for you. All for you. Use the books, the birdhouse, the picture. Remember my lessons. I love you, my girl.' After that, everything is a blur. I think I screamed, I remember being lifted from my uncle to the ambulance, a nurse talking to me. I asked her to tell the police to send you, as requested by my uncle, and then I fell into unconsciousness."

Dalgliesh stayed quiet for the whole story, no more questions until she finished. It was a story that Dalgliesh would have to verify on scene once she showed him the entrance to the priest's hole, but so far he was fascinated by this case. Adam was not going to admit to himself that a part of him was also interested in the mystery of Theodora Leyne, the orphan girl raised like a spy, who would become a mercenary writer and surprisingly… a bed and breakfast owner.

"Thank you for sharing your story with me."

Theodora's eyes seemed to be watering a bit, but she did not cry, "what do you think he meant?"

"Pardon?"

"The books, the birdhouse? Every part of his last words. The whole event really. I don't know what to think. I've been trying to understand since the drugs began to wear off. I just can't fathom it."

"Neither can I. We've had forensics go over the books. So far we haven't been able to find much in the way of information other than your fingerprints, those of your uncle, some annotations and dried flowers, though forensics think those are unrelated to the case." Explained Dalgliesh.

Theodora froze, "What did you say?"

Dalgliesh narrowed his eyes, "Do you think they could be connected to the case? I would like to know if so."

Theodora seemed to be lost in thought, her eyes staring into space before she replied, "I believe so. But I would have to see the books in order to verify."

"What do you mean?"

Her eyes stopped their reverie and met his gaze, "I mean that my uncle never annotated old editions of books unless it was purposeful. And I think I know why. We had a code that I created as a child, specifically in order to bug him by writing in books…. the flowers could be an additional code layered on top of the original. He hated finding dried flowers pressed in books, said they caused paper deterioration over time due to organic acids. I cannot be sure… at least until I see the books."

"If they're relevant to the case, as you say, then they might be kept as evidence," Dalgliesh explained.

Theodora considered this for a minute, her right hand fidgeting with her blankets again as she thought before she said something Adam did not expect, "You and your officers can stay in my bed and breakfast for free, and I'll teach you how to break the cipher if there is one. I am pretty positive that the annotations and the flowers are the key to understanding a part of this mystery. If not, the lodging offer still stands. The hotels here are usually busy and expensive with tourists. I would normally cook and clean but…" she gestured to herself with her right hand, "I'm not exactly in fine fettle."

Dalgliesh considered this, her words. Theodora Leyne truly was an eccentric if she was busy inventing ciphers to annoy her uncle and inviting strangers into her home and place of business. It would be unorthodox for Dalgliesh and his officers to stay in the house of a victim's relative, however free lodging and a chance to understand the victim better would make solving the case much easier. Dalgliesh could deal with the criticism from higher ups if there would be any.

"I'll accept. But I'll have the Yard pay to have someone do the cooking and cleaning, I'm sure they'll find it in the budget they would normally have allotted to pay for lodgings."

Theodora nodded, "I'm fine with that. You have yourself a deal Commander Dalgliesh," she offered him her bandaged right hand, which he shook gingerly. He hoped he didn't press on her wounds.

"And you Miss Leyne," he agreed.

"Theo. Call me Theo."

Dalgliesh considered this, "Adam then. But only in private, since we will be working together."

"I'll endeavour to be professional in public," she remarked wryly, "But… pleased to meet you Adam, despite the circumstances."

"Likewise."

She smiled again then, not the first time since the beginning of their conversation, but the first time it felt genuine. Her smile actually met her eyes, and it was like seeing sunlight break through clouds. Adam felt something primal within him shake at the sight of it. Theodora Leyne truly would be trouble for Adam Dalgliesh. That he was sure of.

Next chapter

Author’s Note: Sorry for the long dialogue scene. But it’s necessary. I wanted to build rapport and start giving some clues into the mystery of Uncle Morris. To be honest I wasn’t expecting to write a sort of instant attraction (not insta love. Ew) between Adam and Theo. But it kinda makes sense in my mind at least. I don’t know. Reading the Black Tower has been very enlightening into Adam’s psyche and the way he looks at people. (Fun fact, Adam fuuuuuuucks in the books. Sadly the show doesn’t show that. 😔) Now it’s mystery time though. Yippee!

Thank you everyone for your comments, kind words and more. It means a lot.

[dansemacabre]

are you stuck trying to decode the book of bill but you don’t want the keys handed to you? i was in your shoes literally three days ago! i failed and looked up codes on reddit (because a good grade in book of bill is a normal thing to want and a possible thing to get) but now you don’t have to!! here are some BOOK OF BILL CODEBREAKING HINTS designed to kindly shove you in the right direction!

my credentials are: one summer cryptography class i took in high school, autism, weirdly good pattern recognition (probably because of the autism), and a desperate need to make things make sense. sorry in advance if any of this seems patronizing. hints below the page break!!

general tips:

- A and I will become your bestest friends. like 99 times out of 100 any single letter is a or i. try those out first

- the apostrophe will also become your bestest friend- especially x’x, which will almost always be i’m (except there’s one place in the book where it is not. don’t make my mistakes.)

- themysteryofgravityfalls.com is SO so helpful. for non-symbolic ciphers u can lowkey put in codes and button mash caesar and atbash. godsend. devilsend? idk someone sent it and it’s wonderful

- call every phone number, visit every website. they bought those domains for a reason! i think!

- any list of numbers 1-26 is a1z26. like that’s simply a truth

cipher specific hints now !!!

RUNES (characters taken from norse runes)

- there is a key for this one in the book! maybe u spotted it right away but i did not lol, so look for an instance of 26 rune-y characters!

- the rune code on the inside cover is a graffiti joke- translates to a common thing people write on walls or carve into books made out of brain matter ig

THERAPESE (found in the last few pages during bills court-ordered therapy)

- bill’s picture is labeled in this section, so those characters translate directly to “bill cipher” ! once you have those, you can apply them to other instances of the code and go from there

- the rest of the names of the… things around him on the inpatients page are puns, titles, and/or weird words. they might look wrong until you have Every Character- trust ur key! use the rest of the instances of this code to find the missing letters first, make sense of it and laugh at the clever little joke later

BROSCODE (only two instances, found in journal 3 lost pages)

- the name is a hint by itself- this is stanley and stanford related! both stans use it once somewhere in the book!

NEWBILL (the most common symbolic cipher in the book)

- if you have journal three, the characters are VERY similar to a code there- not the same though, so don’t try and use that key. but like journal three, this code will (almost) always be bill speaking.

- ok lowkey i think the best way to explain this is just to give you one answer. i cracked this by randomly guessing that the small writing by the galaxy drawing on the journal three page “a voice form the past” translates to “forget the past”. go from there my loves

- that being said. everything else from journal three uses the same characters, but a different code. haven’t cracked it yet. looking for advice tee bee haych. i’ll edit this once i find it out

- also: dipper uses this code in his section. that’s pretty helpful to get most of the rest of the characters!

now some page specific hints!:

silly straw page. Oh god

- damn that themysteryofgravityfallsdotcom sure is helpful! Anyway,

- the numbers code is Weird. but the number don’t equal letters. notice the spaces between number groups- pair the groups, try and add a dash somewhere within the first group and a colon somewhere within the second group. you’ll have to use your resources a little

- if that made zero sense: “uhvrxufhv” phdqv brxu idyrulwh ghhsob ohjdo wy vkrz ylhzlqj zhevlwh. ru brxu kxox dffrxqw

- sorry for the vagueness but i really don’t want to spoil this one- i got it spoiled but i think figuring it out on your own would be really rewarding and worth your Time

messages on your tv

- there are strange boxes on the bottom of the page. gonna be so honest don’t know how they mean anything at all to anyone but allegedly it’s a code! i’ll look into it. idk man

okay. i think that’s all i’ve got? please comment if u have questions for me or other folks on here or suggestions on how to sound less like a fucking nerd talking abt this shit. idk i love that people are set on cracking this book asap but i hope this helps ppl who prefer The Thrill Of The Chase and also like to feel smart and important and so very talented