#and i find the differences between the countries fascinating

[vindicated-truth]

An underrated but incredibly well-executed method of storytelling by Beyond Evil is its use of juxtapositions to compare and contrast the complexity and depth of its characters.

And the show best demonstrates this through the point of having two characters have similar circumstances or traits, but have them make entirely different choices.

One of the best juxtapositions are with two characters with the most in common with each other: Han Joowon and Park Jeongje. Both only children, both with a single parent who are both abusive and manipulative, both having risen in rank in their job through their family's connections, both connected to Lee Yuyeon's death—and most important of all, both of incredible importance to Lee Dongsik.

The difference was in their choices: Han Joowon acted immediately to rectify his mistakes and bring justice to Lee Dongsik—while Park Jeongje acted far, far too late.

Twenty-one years too late.

We also have two characters who are prone to outbursts of violence driven by high emotion—and this is an interesting juxtaposition—in Lee Dongsik and Kang Jinmook. The primary difference between them is that Lee Dongsik knows when to stop, to pull back before he can kill—regardless of how much he believes, because of his overwhelming anger and pain, that the other person deserves to die.

(Song Jiho very, very nearly did.)

Kang Jinmook doesn't have that restraint. Whoever he believes deserves to die, he thoughtlessly kills.

We have two ambitious figures of authority who don't think twice in getting rid of anyone who stands in the way in pursuit of their goal—to the point that they would both make use of their power to hide their own sons' sins—and yet at the end of it, it is only Do Haewon who finally broke down when Lee Dongsik quietly told her that her son, Park Jeongje, would kill himself if she didn't finally make the choice to do what was right.

In the end, between her ambition and her son, she still ultimately chose her son.

Han Kihwan instead chose to aim his own loaded gun at his own son's head.

We have a doomed marriage between Lee Changjin and Oh Jihwa, a toxic relationship built on lies and deceit by Lee Changjin; but we are given hope of what a healthy marriage and a loving nuclear family can be with Kang Dosoo and Im Seonnyeo.

We have two impassioned partners who aren't afraid to put themselves in danger in pursuit of justice—but only one of them listened to Lee Dongsik. Where Lee Sangyeob went ahead to thoughtlessly pursue Song Jiho, leaving his partner behind—Han Joowon chose to wait for his.

We have corrupt officials in the force like Jung Cheolmun, and yet where most police officers who would bend the rules for their own benefit—Lee Dongsik among them—we have a shining example of someone pursuing justice within the letter of the law with Oh Jihwa.

We mourn the loss of Lee Dongsik's other half, Lee Yuyeon, which is why we understand why Oh Jihwa could not bear to surrender Oh Jihoon to the authorities despite first finding out about his lies, because we know that just like Lee Dongsik, she would not bear the loss of her sibling.

We have two men both born into privilege, nepo babies who had everything served to them on a silver platter, and yet when forced to face a grave mistake, one chose to run from that mistake for twenty-one years, turning a blind eye to all the other deaths that occurred in its wake because he was too cowardly to face the consequences of his actions.

The other not only sought his own punishment for his own inadvertent abuse of power and negligence—he also brought down the most powerful cop in the country.

He brought down his own father.

One Han was the source of all the bloodshed—and the other Han ended it all.

There may be plenty more that I may have missed, but it's so fascinating how just by these examples alone, it powerfully demonstrates where evil truly lies, what will make you a monster—and ultimately, conversely, what will make you rise above all of it.

Because it's not the circumstances that will define you—but your choices.

It's not what happened to you—but what you choose to do.

It's not the life you were born into—but the life you choose to live.

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[lurkingshan]

Shan's Favorite Dramas of 2024

The year is wrapping up and I have forced myself to narrow down to a list of 15 (I tried 10 but the choices were too hard!) of my favorite 2024 dramas across genres and countries of origin. This is not every drama I liked this year (that list would be incredibly long), but these are the ones that inspired the most brain rot and really stuck with me.

At 25:00 in Akasaka (Japan, Gaga)

The mood and tone of this drama was just perfect, and I loved the way it explored the blurred lines and confusion that can result when the real and fake aspects of a professional relationship get all mixed up. Hayama was a great character and I loved his arc, in particular.

Cherry Magic (Thailand, Viu)

I still can't believe how much I loved this adaptation. A fantastic example of taking a work from another culture and translating it to a new context while not only retaining the core narrative, but even enhancing it. This show gave us what the Japanese version didn't--the resolution to the physical intimacy arc at the core of the premise--and retained all the charm of the original while adding new humor. And delivered one of the best romances of the year while it was at it!

Don't Care for an Old Man's Underwear (Japan, fansub)

Oppan, my beloved. Easily the best family drama of the year, loaded with excellent messages while (mostly) avoiding feeling like an after-school special. Makoto's journey to update his thinking with Daichi's help, and the mutual friendship that developed between them, is one of my favorite relationships of the year. I loved every character's story; there is something for everyone to connect with in this show.

Fangs of Fortune (China, iQIYI)

This drama was just so much FUN. A gorgeous feast for the eyes, a wealth of fascinating characters and relationship dynamics, and a fast-moving plot that you don't need to try too hard to understand. It was a great binge and Li Lun was easily my favorite villain of the year.

Gyeongseong Creature (South Korea, Netflix)

A gorgeous period piece set during one of the darkest chapters of Korean history, this one took me by surprise (I am usually not a horror girlie). The writing for this show had surprising depth and I loved its themes around family and loyalty and survival under fascism.

Knock Knock Boys (Thailand, Gaga)

My boys! I loved this show about a group of four queer men living together in a shared house, getting into mischief and supporting each other through school and work and relationship struggles. The show is funny and breezy but also manages to tackle some serious issues with grace while delivering two strong romances and my favorite coming out narrative of the year.

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (South Korea, iQIYI)

Winner for best QL of the year, and a romance that will be sticking with me for a long time. Dohoe is one of the most honest and unflinching depictions of a an adult psyche shaped by childhood abuse that I have ever seen on my screen. It was healing to see him treated with such compassion and to see him and Juyoung find their way to a happy life together. An absolute must watch for all you angst with a happy ending fans.

Love for Love’s Sake (South Korea, iQIYI)

It's so hard to get a high concept premise like this right, but this drama did an amazing job with it. It's one of those shows where you can go back over everything that happened in retrospect and it all adds up, and I loved that the ending lent itself to so many different interpretations. One of the best watch experiences of the year.

Love in the Big City (South Korea, Viki)

Go Young, my beloved. This drama adaptation of the internationally successful novel exceeded my wildest expectations, and I am still a little stunned that we got the privilege of seeing it. It is, bar none, the most authentically queer show on this list, and a beautiful depiction of all the significant relationships in one young man's life. I will be rewatching it many times and keeping it close to my heart.

Love is Like a Poison (Japan, fansub)

A masterful blend of comedy, action, and romance, this drama about a lawyer with delusions of grandeur and the scam artist who decides to become his partner was a constant delight and gave us my favorite battle couple of the year.

Marahuyo Project (Philippines, YouTube)

I can't tell you the joy and relief I felt to get another high quality queer drama from the Philippines this year. And this one had such a great cast of characters, anchored by one of my favorite protagonists of the year in King. It's funny, it's romantic, it's touching, and as always for a JP Haboc production, it has an amazing soundtrack.

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat (Japan, fansub)

My girls! I'm still amazed by how much this drama gave us in its second season by expanding the world of the show beyond our two main characters to include so many other women whose stories were just as fascinating. This is the season where Nomoto and Kasuga really came into themselves and started building the life they want to have together, and it was a real joy to watch.

Tender Light (China, YouKu)

The way this show had me in a chokehold while it was airing! Visually stunning, incredibly well-constructed, and featuring one of the best performances of the year from Zhang Xin Cheng, it's an exhilarating mystery and a very touching story of the unusual bond between a student and the older woman who fascinates and terrifies him.

The Midnight Romance in Hagwon (South Korea, Viki)

You know a drama is good when it has you deeply invested in a random topic you never thought you were interested in. In this case, that's the intense debate on pedagogical methods between the public schools and hagwons in Korea. Alongside delivering a great romance, this drama was passionate about teaching and it sucked me right in to the Korean literature lessons at the heart of the story.

Unknown (Taiwan)

No other drama inspired more brain rot in me this year than this story of a family rocked by changing feelings as the chosen siblings grow up. The loyalty and love and complex desire between Wei Qian and Wei Yuan is the heart of this story, and the drama did an incredible job of taking us along for the journey as things shifted and changed between them. I still think about them all the time.

Bonus: Favorite Classic Dramas Watched for the First Time in 2024

I am always catching up on an endless backlog of dramas alongside my live watches. Here are the best gems I finally watched this year.

Lost (South Korea, Viki)

I loved this deeply melancholy drama about two lost souls who connect unexpectedly. I finally pulled it up from my to be watched list because it shares director Hur Jin Ho with Love in the Big City (he did part 2 with Go Young's mom) and it sure feels like it! The characters are deep and complicated, the relationships are complex and carefully built, and it is hands down the best encapsulation of a failed marriage between two good people who truly loved each other that I have ever seen. It's heavy and not for everyone--mining the depths of human despair is kind of its thing--but if you like this sort of story it's world class.

Mouse (South Korea, Viki)

I was recently in the market for a good mystery thriller, so I finally watched this apparently very divisive 2021 drama--and if there's a divide I am firmly on the HELL YEAH side of the line. This drama had an interesting concept (that I will not describe bc holy shit spoilers, you should go in knowing nothing) that it unwound with remarkable patience and precision over 20 episodes. Its themes were strong and consistent, the lead characters were super compelling, the plotting and pacing and editing were unbelievably tight, the performances were incredible, and it made a lot of provocative points and ended well, feeling coherent and complete. It sustained my full interest and attention without any stumbles for ~25 incredible hours.

Mr. Sunshine (South Korea, Netflix)

Another one that's been on my watch list forever and finally got its moment when I was in the mood for a historical where ladies got to wield weapons alongside the men. And unsurprisingly, I loved it. Writer Kim Eun Sook is known for her big, glossy, epic dramas, and her style made a good pairing with a story about a rebel faction during the Japanese occupation of Korea. I really loved all the main characters in this show, and was moved by the complicated exploration of their loyalty (or lack thereof) to their homeland. This drama also has a very strong class analysis baked into its themes, which I very much appreciated. It was a traumatic watch, but in a way that felt right given the setting and the choices characters made.

The Miracle of Teddy Bear (Thailand, YouTube)

I watched this one on a mission and it was worth every moment. Nut is one of my favorite protagonists in any queer drama, and I thought the show made great use of its fantasy concept to explore some very real human experiences with depth and compassion. This show feels like an especially important counterpoint to the Thal BL bubble, and I recommend it highly for anyone who enjoys those dramas.

When I Fly Towards You (China, Netflix)

And we end on a light and sweet note, with my favorite coming of age romance that I watched all year. This drama was just lovely, and it will be a go-to rewatch for me for years to come. There’s something so comforting about a story where you start with the happy ending before jumping to the beginning, and just get to sit back and see how they get there. I loved all the characters in this and marveled at how it was never boring despite being decidedly low angst.

[gracefireheart]

Some nordic folklore creatures, but in (at least sort of) Gravity Falls style! :]

Got them here in separate pics + notes I tried to somewhat write as Ford. Though, I probably have massively failed 'cause I just can't replicate the fancy literature speak he does :')

Nisse

Might be related to Gravity Falls' own Gnomes, but with a few variations to them. For one, they are a little bigger than our resident Gnomes and have pointed ears instead of rounded ones. They also are more chaotic, but can become docile when given porridge of all things. And they tend to reside inside barns instead of the forest.

Such an interesting creature I wished I could speak to. However, whenever me and S have encountered one, they only speak in one of the languages of the nordic countries. They seem to understand us- calling us "turister," which a local have told us meant "tourists"- and absolutely despise us. Unless- like I mentioned earlier- we give them porridge. I would have to talk to the Gnomes and see if they have the same fascinations with porridge as these Nisse do.

Huldra

The locals I have talked to about Huldra have told a few different tales that either go one way or the other. Either they just want to get married, resulting in their cow tail popping off of them. Or they want to lure men away so they can kill them.

In a way, Huldra could be classified as a land version of a Siren. The only real big difference between one of these ladies and a regular woman is the cow tail I mentioned.

From what I have gathered, the Huldra have adapted a bit over the years to not only know the nordic languages, but also many other languages like English, Spanish, German, Hebrew, and so on. I do hope me and S can find one of them while we're here, I just hope it will not end in another rescue mission.

Nøkk

Nøkk- or Nøkken as some locals call them- is a creature that resides in lakes and sometimes rivers. Although it is probably one of the easier creatures to try and look for, we did not have the time to rent a car or walk all the way to one of these lakes that people had seemingly seen one in. Maybe some other day.

The descriptions of this creature, however, was still nonetheless interesting. It is mostly made out of algae and seaweed, has bright yellow eyes that gaze at you, and- during the full moon- can transform into a shining, white horse. The locals that have told me about this "horse form" have spoken about Nøkken luring people onto it's back before diving right into the water to drown them.

Draug

Draug- or Draugen- is a creature I have been advised to not encounter at all. The few that knew of it told of tales of sailors, fishermen, and seafarers alike stumbling upon this creature, then soon after meet their demise. Some have said Draugen is the one that kills them, some have said Draugen is simply there to warn of their upcoming death. No one is sure which is true as no one has met it and survived.

Another thing a select few locals have mentioned is how Draugen might have been once a human itself, but then met a tragic end out on the ocean. It would've been nice to try and speak to it, but considering the possibility of S and I dying as a result, I would rather not take the risk.

[pricegotmedickmatized]

may request some Nikolai?

imagine if Nikolai, methodical and calculating to a T, met someone who's forgetful, chaotic, and just fully disorganised at a coffee shop or something when they tripped on their own foot and spilled their overly sweet (thankfully cold) drink on his clothes and they're so flustered and embarrassed and he's jyst thinking "aww, poor thing needs me"

ANYWAY NO PRESSURE BYEE

UM YES ABSOLUTELY I LOVE (also sorry this took me literally forever to get to, i had to exorcise graves from my brain first haha)

lets break this down, shall we?

nikolai has one true vice. sure he smokes, and he fucks, and he drinks, but he doesn't treat any of those like vices, like things that if he were denied he'd tear apart entire countries for. no. his vice is control. and he controls everything around him. and he can't understand, doesn't even bother to pretend to understand, why other people don't get the same satisfaction out of it he does.

nikolai is careful. he's smart and he's careful and he uses both of those things like weapons, because in his business if you're not careful and smart you're dead. it's second nature to him now, the methodical sweeps of all rooms he enters (only after he's researched the building it's blueprints and history and ownership etc the night before), the triple checking of intricate locks (that he made with his own hands or under his supervision because there's no such thing as too careful), all of it.

nikolai has every moment of his life planned out, every year, every month, every day, every minute. and he likes it like that. he's got built in failsafes for when those plans get shot to smithereens, especially as situations develop and blow up in his or the 141's faces. but that's only to be expected, in his line of work. he prepares for multiple possible shit shows, he's got plans for a hundred different types of apocalypses, the man views life as a chess game, one that he is indisputably winning.

nikolai loves a routine, and especially he loves his new morning routines when he turns into his coffee shop and finds a new face tucked away in the corner of the shop at four forty each morning, studying on a lilac ipad with matching headphones and an external keyboard. she's fascinating, because it just took one morning for him to realize she was his exact opposite. the papers she pulls out from her bag are crunkled and crumpled and disorganized. her pretty hair is always slipping out of the haphazard knot she's stuck it in on top of her head. and she's clumsy. she got up to ask for a refill the first morning he noticed her. it wasn't a tiny shop, and there were just the two of them in there, if he hadn't known better to pay attention to her hands he would've thought she was just a pickpocketer when she tripped over nothing and landed hard against his chest.

nikolai might have a new vice. because it's plain to see, watching her shuffle anxiously through her papers and try to find hastily scrawled sticky notes she's left for herself (the one she's looking for at the moment is stuck to the bottom of her shoe), that she needs some order in her life. that she needs discipline. and nikolai is going to give it to her. going to fill her life with structure, not to suffocate her, sweet little chaotic whirlwind that she is, but to give her the proper environment to truly blossom. to ease that tearful panic in her face when she realizes she can't find the note, that vanishes into a blinding smile when he offers it to her between his fingers after a careful extraction.

nikolai definitely has a new vice. because she likes to fight his changes to her life. his being in it permanently, for one, was something she tried to fight, though it lasted an amusing six minutes before he had her cumming on his fingers. she's a stubborn, willful thing, but that just makes it so much sweeter, so much prettier when he can get her to bend to his will. and he always, always gets her to bend. at least when it's important. the other things, like whether or not she can keep her own apartment after they're married, he lets her have free rein over. it makes her happy, and it's not like she's going to be spending any time there anyways. not when he's got her addicted to the taste of his praise on her tongue as he forces her tight pussy to take his fat cock for the third time in a row.

[simplyreveries]

just saw that requests are open 🗣️🗣️

I already asked this for housewardens, but can you maaayyyybbeeeee do the rest of the dorms with s/o who’s like their movies princess

yes!!<3

trey clover

he finds it endearing with your curiosity, you always seem to be coming to him with questions upon questions about twisted wonderland. he sometimes forgets that this is all so new to you, whereas he has been used to this world his whole life. he chuckles in amusement and does gently advise you when dealing with certain people or things regarding this world. he wants to look out for you— you can’t help but make trey worry sometimes!

whenever you tend to get stubborn and talk back to others, such as riddle (who is equally as stubborn) you two get along but yet butt heads quite often with your attitudes. trey seems to make himself the mediator between you two, he shakes his head playfully and teases that you're too troublesome.

finds it flattering, but honestly a little difficult to concentrate whenever you’re around— only because you’re so impressed of such simple magic and things he can do naturally. when he absentmindedly uses it for cooking in such your wows and awes make him laugh, he’ll tell you he feels nervous though when it seems like he has an audience now haha.

ruggie bucchi

no because you genuinely made him nervous... when he had met you, he was expecting you to be some easy target or someone he thought he might try to get some madol out of... he was wrong. at first, he knew at that point you weren’t someone easily to be messed with in such a way. he eventually did grow a huge amount of respect for that.

ruggie snickers and laughs whenever you get confrontational with any sort of bothersome savanaclaw students or even leona— (surprisingly he doesn’t seem to respond much to that, he seems to back down around you as well). he enjoys how willingly you get into the face of others. whereas he's sneakier and unconfrontational you're pretty much the opposite here. he never seems worried about you though when it comes to that, he finds it amusing.

you two often get into playful banter with each other all the time- witty remarks and teasing. he loves it, there has been a few times you've managed to make him flustered.

jade leech

he truly thinks you're too innocent. too easily swayed, he finds it oh so endearing. not to mention, your fascination of this world makes him laugh. especially whenever you decide to approach him inquiring him about plants, animals, things he may have seen as he's always seeming to be out hiking in the woods and mountains that are near the school.

jade enjoys sharing what he knows- but he is able to give you more information about the coral sea since that's what he's known for most of his life. he suggests the idea of you visiting there sometime on your own accord. instead of when you were tangled into that deal with azul, he'd tease. he remembers the curiosity and awe as you went to the museum there.

your knack for collecting items is endearing to him, if there's a chance he's ever out somewhere- like a gift shop in another country, he makes sure to get something for you. he chuckles pleased when he sees the excited look on your face and rambling.

jamil viper

he admires and honestly even relates to your own personal desires of independence and exploring. jamil has always wanted to travel and see the world,, he tells you often that he wants you to come with him to not only his homeland but other places he was interested in and thinks you'll enjoy too. ever since chapter 4 he has been able to get some more space- and he wants to do that with you.

though he is used to kalim, being such a kinder person a school like this, he thinks you should still be cautious because of the students around you. whenever you show acts of kindness, he gently reminds you about people like octavinelle exist...!

jamil huffs at your stubbornness sometimes, even though he really is no different than you. so even if he does get a little frustrated (mostly only out of worry for you) he can't help but laugh because you two are similar in such ways. he lets you win.

rook hunt

we've seen his liking to neige,,,, he is no different with you. he finds your optimism for such a situation you're in truly beautiful. he thinks your perseverance through the chaos you've been thrown into and willingness to fix ramshackle up a little to be a bit homier was cute even.

rook has a habit always watching out for you. he can't help but feel some sense of wanting to protect when it comes to you. even though he can't help but already be around you all the time with how overly loving he is.

he easily developed such a fascination to you, he always found you somehow throughout the day. he adores your voice; he thinks it's the loveliest thing he's heard. he constantly comes out of nowhere- surprising you tell you how beautiful you sounded to him. rook claims he could listen to it all day and knowing him, he's not exaggerating.

lilia vanrouge

he doesn't show it in the most obvious way, it tends to come off more playful- but lilia does have a sense of protectiveness over you like malleus would. like i said though, he could easily play it off and twist it into him just finding you and popping up bizarrely from some ceiling, greeting you sweetly. he does seem to always have an eye on you. he thinks you're too good of a soul for a school like this sometimes.

finds your daydreamy and hopeful demeanor so,,, sweet. he is giggling as you tell him your hopes and ideas for your future. lilia tells you he'll make them happen. knowing what he's capable of.... he means it.

he'll grin and playfully twirl you to make you laugh - when he catches you off in your own world. he doesn't seem to really snap you out when you're off in your own world. he just watches you smitten; he laughs if you notice him staring and wouldn't deny it.

[satansdarlin]

The Valentine dilemma

Tim Drake x nb!reader

Rating: T

Word count: 10k

Warnings: none

Notes: the reader in this is implied to be autistic but it's never stated! Enjoy some soft loving valentines day shenanigans!! <3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tim was at a loss. The Timothy Drake, boy genius, youngest CEO in the country—a man who could solve complex corporate mergers over breakfast and decode encrypted files in his sleep—was completely, utterly at a loss. Because of you.

He sat in his office, the Gotham skyline a gray backdrop behind him, tapping his fingers against his mahogany desk in an erratic rhythm that would have driven his secretary mad if she'd been present. The blue light of his multiple monitors cast shadows across his face as he frowned at his calendar, the approaching February 14th seeming to mock him with its cheerful red highlight.

Timothy had partners before—many partners, if he was being honest. More than he cared to admit. He'd gone through what Dick fondly called his "wild phase" in his early twenties, a time when he was trying to find himself between the weight of Wayne Enterprises and his nighttime activities. All of those partners had made this particular holiday easy. Almost formulaic, really.

What was the problem exactly? Valentine's Day. In the past, the equation had been simple: expensive chocolates (usually Godiva) + roses (red, always red) + reservation at whatever restaurant had earned the latest Michelin star + intimate evening = successful Valentine's Day. It was a proven formula, tested and refined over years of dating experience.

You, however, were proving to be an anomaly in his carefully calculated world. The conversation had started innocently enough, on a quiet Sunday afternoon in your shared apartment.

"What do you wanna do for Valentine's?" Tim asked, not looking up from his computer screen where he was reviewing quarterly projections. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he spoke, multitasking as always. "I just wanna know so I can make reservations."

You were sprawled on the floor of his home office, surrounded by puzzle pieces—one of those impossibly difficult ones with a thousand pieces of just sky and clouds. The sight of you there, completely at ease in his space, made something warm settle in his chest, even as your response made him freeze.

"I didn't have anything planned," you hummed back, squinting at two nearly identical pieces before fitting one perfectly into place. "I figured we weren't doing anything."

That made him frown, his fingers stilling on the keyboard. He swiveled his chair to face you properly, brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't we do anything?"

You looked up at him then, and he was struck, as he often was, by how your analytical mind matched his own—except in moments like these, when it drove him slightly mad.

"It's a commercial holiday celebrating love on a day where hundreds of people have been historically killed," you mused, turning another puzzle piece in your hands. "The commercialization of romance is fascinating from a sociological perspective, but ultimately meaningless. Plus," you added, offering him that small, sincere smile that never failed to make his heart skip, "it's not like I need a day to prove you love me, Timothy. It's not necessary for us to celebrate."

You see what he was dealing with here?

Usually, your blunt and analytical view on things was refreshing—comforting, even. It was one of the things that had drawn him to you in the first place. You could match him theory for theory, debate for debate. You understood his need for logic and reason, never demanded he be more emotional than he was capable of being.

Except when it came to holidays.

Christmas? You'd gotten him an incredibly thoughtful gift last year—a rare first edition of his favorite scientific journal—but when he'd asked what you wanted, you'd just shrugged and said his presence was enough. He'd ended up buying you three different presents just to be safe.

Halloween? You didn't dress up, claiming the modern interpretation of the holiday had strayed too far from its historical roots to be meaningful. Instead, you just put out a bowl of candy outside the apartment door with a neat sign asking trick-or-treaters to take one piece each (they never did).

But Valentine's Day? You didn't even want to celebrate Valentine's Day?

Tim ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up in frustration. He needed backup. This required a tactical approach, possibly a flowchart, and definitely advice from someone who understood the complexity of dating a person who viewed holidays through an anthropological lens rather than an emotional one.

He pulled out his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he debated who to text. Dick would just tell him to be romantic. Jason would laugh at him. Bruce... no, definitely not Bruce. Maybe Barbara? She'd always been good at finding logical solutions to emotional problems.

As he contemplated his options, you continued with your puzzle, completely unaware of the crisis you'd sparked in your boyfriend's overactive mind. The worst part was, he knew you meant every word. You truly didn't need grand gestures or commercial holidays to feel loved. But Tim Drake had never backed down from a challenge, and he wasn't about to start now.

He just needed to figure out how to make Valentine's Day meaningful to someone who could quote mortality statistics from the St. Valentine's Day Massacre while assembling a puzzle of the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

Tim slipped out of his home office, mumbling something about needing to make a call. A little white lie never hurt anyone, especially when he was trying to crack the code of making his analytically-minded lover appreciate a day dedicated to romance. Once safely in the hallway, he pulled out his phone, took a steadying breath, and dialed a number he probably should have called sooner. Your best friend would know what to do—assuming she didn't roast him mercilessly first.

The line rang twice before Tay picked up. "Hey Timber, whatcha need?"

Tim winced at the nickname but pressed on. "Do you have any clue what (Y/N) would enjoy on Valentine's Day?"

The silence that followed was so complete, Tim pulled the phone away from his ear to check if the call had dropped. It hadn't.

"Oh boy." Tay's voice was loaded with meaning, none of it encouraging. "Listen, Tim. They aren't exactly... huge on holidays, which I'm sure you know by now. But Valentine's Day? That's probably the one they care about the least."

"I'm aware of that now, Tay," Tim replied, trying not to let his frustration seep into his voice. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Alright, alright, don't get pissy now." There was rustling on the other end of the line, followed by what sounded like papers being shuffled. "Give me a moment." More shuffling. "Well... you could go the nuclear option."

"I'm willing." Tim's voice dropped to an almost vulnerable softness, one that made Tay pause in her paper shuffling. It was the voice of a man who had faced down Gotham's worst villains with less trepidation than he felt about potentially disappointing his partner on Valentine's Day.

"You really care about this, don't you?" Tay's tone softened. "Okay, here's what you need to know about (Y/N)..."

And that's how Tim found himself, three days before Valentine's Day, transforming the entire route from your apartment to his safe house, all the way back to Wayne Manor, into an elaborate puzzle. He'd scattered clues throughout the city—some of which he'd actually workshopped a few nights ago while apprehending the Riddler (he was a multitasker, and hey, if you couldn't test your Valentine's Day riddles on an actual riddle-obsessed villain, when could you?).

He was a good boyfriend, damn it. If you wouldn't celebrate a commercial holiday about love, then he'd turn it into something you couldn't resist: an intellectual challenge. Each clue was a carefully crafted combination of historical facts, mathematical equations, and obscure references that would make your analytical mind light up with interest. The final destination? Well, that was the real surprise.

Tim stood in the Manor's library, surveying his handiwork with the same intensity he usually reserved for crime scene analysis. The room had been transformed into what he hoped was the perfect blend of romance and intellectual stimulation. Books on the history of Valentine's Day across different cultures were strategically placed alongside ancient texts about love and partnership. He'd even managed to track down original documents about the St. Valentine's Day Massacre—because nothing said "I love you" quite like historical artifacts about the very tragedy you'd cited as a reason not to celebrate.

Now he just had to hope that turning Valentine's Day into the world's most romantic scavenger hunt would work. Because if it didn't, he was completely out of ideas—and he really didn't want to have to call Tay back for a Plan B.

.

.

.

Valentine's Day arrived crisp and clear, the kind of winter morning where Gotham almost looked clean in the pale sunlight. You were juggling a bag of groceries as you approached the penthouse door, trying to fish your keys out of your pocket without dropping anything. Tim had seemed so deflated when you'd dismissed Valentine's Day, and while you still stood by your position on commercial holidays, you couldn't quite shake the image of his disappointed face from your mind. So you'd decided to compromise—not because it was Valentine's Day, but because you loved him. You were going to surprise him with his favorite meal when he got back from whatever mysterious errand had called him away this morning.

The door swung open, and you nearly dropped your groceries.

Sitting on the kitchen counter, perfectly positioned to catch your eye the moment you walked in, was a pristine white rabbit plush toy. It was propped up against your hardback copy of "Alice in Wonderland"—the antique edition Tim had given you for your birthday, appreciating both your love of literature and historical artifacts. The rabbit held a cream-colored note in its paws, the paper looking suspiciously like the expensive stationery Tim kept in his home office.

You set the groceries down slowly, your analytical mind already whirring to life. The white rabbit was an obvious reference to "Alice in Wonderland," but Tim never did anything without multiple layers of meaning. Was this a literary reference? A historical one? Both?

Your fingers brushed against the note as you picked it up, the paper thick and textured. The handwriting was unmistakably Tim's—precise and measured, even when he was trying to be whimsical:

"'Begin at the beginning,' the King said, very gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' But where is the beginning? Perhaps where time never moves forward... Follow the white rabbit, if you dare. But remember—you're already late for a very important date."

A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The reference was obvious enough—the quote from "Alice in Wonderland" paired with the white rabbit. But the clue about time never moving forward? That was pure Tim, giving you something to actually puzzle over. Your eyes narrowed as you considered the possibilities, your dinner plans temporarily forgotten in favor of this new intellectual challenge.

Time never moving forward... A clock that's stuck? Too obvious for Tim. Your gaze swept the penthouse, taking in the familiar space with new eyes. That's when it hit you—the antique grandfather clock Tim had insisted on installing in your shared study. The one that hadn't worked since you moved in, its hands permanently frozen at 3:47.

You made your way to the study, the white rabbit clutched in one hand (because somehow you knew you'd need it later). The study was exactly as you'd left it that morning—or almost exactly. The morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows caught on something that definitely hadn't been there before: a delicate teacup perched precariously on top of the grandfather clock.

"Curiouser and curiouser," you muttered, a smile playing at your lips as you reached for the cup. It was fine bone china, decorated with intricate clockwork patterns in gold leaf. Inside, another note was folded into an origami rabbit (and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had taken Tim to learn that particular skill).

You carefully unfolded it, appreciating the precise creases that had formed the rabbit shape. This note was written in a spiral pattern, forcing you to turn the paper as you read:

"What runs but never walks, has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps? In Gotham's heart, where time flows ever forward unlike our frozen friend here, seek the next white rabbit where the answer meets the stars."

A river. The riddle's answer was a river, and given the mention of stars... You glanced at the clock again, 3:47. Then at the teacup with its clockwork patterns, and finally at the white rabbit in your hand. A slow grin spread across your face as the pieces clicked into place.

The River's Edge Observatory. It had been one of your first dates with Tim—he'd taken you stargazing there at exactly 3:47 AM, claiming it was the perfect time to see a particular constellation. The observatory sat right on the bank of the Gotham River, and it housed an impressive collection of antique timepieces in addition to its telescopes.

"Well played, Timothy," you murmured, already reaching for your coat. The grocery bag in the kitchen was completely forgotten now—your analytical mind was fully engaged in the puzzle before you, and you had to admit, if only to yourself, that Tim had found perhaps the one way to make Valentine's Day intriguing.

The River's Edge Observatory stood proud against the winter sky, its glass dome reflecting the afternoon sun. As you approached, you couldn't help but remember that first date—how Tim had seemed so nervous until you'd started discussing the mathematical precision required for astronomical calculations, and then he'd lit up like the stars you were watching.

The security guard at the entrance—who looked suspiciously like one of Bruce's more trusted employees—simply nodded and waved you through with a knowing smile. Inside, your footsteps echoed against the marble floors as you made your way to the antique timepiece exhibition. The collection was housed in the west wing, where the afternoon sun created dancing patterns through the carefully preserved clockwork mechanisms.

You found what you were looking for in front of the observatory's prized possession: a 17th-century astronomical clock that tracked not just time, but the movement of celestial bodies. There, seated on the display case, was another white rabbit—this one made of clockwork parts, its gears visible through a transparent casing. In its mechanical paws was a star chart, clearly torn from an antique book (and knowing Tim, it was probably a replica—he respected historical artifacts too much to damage a real one).

The chart showed a constellation you didn't immediately recognize, which was unusual. You squinted at it, then noticed the subtle alterations. Tim had modified the star chart, connecting different stars to create... was that a tea pot? The constellation had been redrawn to show the outline of a Victorian tea service, complete with cups and saucers.

Turning the chart over, you found your next clue written in Tim's precise hand:

"Time for tea? Not quite yet. But where does a detective go when they need to think? When the streets are quiet and the crowds are gone, there's a place where leaves float on midnight thoughts and mysteries steep in porcelain dreams. Find me where we first shared a cup of something stronger than tea, and watch your step—the next rabbit might be mad as a hatter."

You couldn't help but laugh. The Midnight Steep—a twenty-four hour tea shop in the old district that doubled as a coffee house by day. It was where you and Tim had first met outside of his official Wayne Enterprises duties. You'd been there at an ungodly hour, running on coffee and determination while working on your thesis. He'd been there avoiding sleep after a particularly rough patrol (though you hadn't known that part at the time). You'd ended up sharing a pot of their strongest coffee blend and debating the historical accuracy of detective novels until sunrise.

"Going for the sentimental angle, are we?" you mused aloud, tucking both the clockwork rabbit and the star chart into your bag. The sun was starting to set now, painting Gotham in shades of amber and rose. Whatever Tim was planning, he'd clearly put more thought into this than any simple dinner reservation.

As you headed for the exit, you found yourself actually looking forward to what came next—not because it was Valentine's Day, but because Tim had managed to transform a commercial holiday into an intellectual treasure hunt through your shared history. It was exactly the kind of thoughtful, complex gesture that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

The Midnight Steep looked exactly as it had the night you'd met Tim—a narrow Victorian townhouse wedged between two modern buildings, its windows glowing with warm light that spilled onto the darkening street. The brass bell above the door chimed softly as you entered, and the familiar scent of coffee and tea leaves enveloped you.

The owner, Mrs. Chen, looked up from behind the counter and smiled knowingly. "Back corner table," she said before you could ask, her eyes twinkling. "The one where you two first argued about Sherlock Holmes for three hours."

You made your way through the maze of mismatched furniture, each piece carefully chosen from different historical periods—something that had fascinated you during that first conversation with Tim. The back corner table was your favorite, tucked into a cozy alcove beneath a stained glass window. Tonight, it held a complete Victorian tea service, steam rising gently from the pot.

And there, in your usual seat, was another white rabbit. This one was crafted entirely of tea leaves and coffee beans, preserved somehow to hold its shape. It was holding what looked like a small leather-bound journal, the kind detectives used in the noir films you and Tim sometimes watched together.

Opening the journal, you found pages of what appeared to be random notes about various cases—all written in Tim's handwriting, but in different colored inks. Some words were circled, others underlined, and some had been crossed out entirely. It looked like genuine case notes, except... you noticed a pattern in the circled words.

You pulled a pen from your bag and began writing down each circled word in order:

"When shadows fall and heroes rise,

Where masks hide truth and secrets lie,

Seek the place where darkness meets

The highest point above these streets.

Where first you learned my other life,

Where trust was given sharp as knife.

The rabbit waits in shadows deep,

Where gargoyles their eternal watch do keep."

Your breath caught slightly. You knew exactly where this one led—the rooftop of the old Gothic Revival bank building, forty stories above the streets of Gotham. It was where Tim had first revealed his identity as Red Robin to you, after you'd figured out most of it yourself and confronted him with your evidence. He'd been impressed with your deductive reasoning, and instead of denying it, he'd taken you to that rooftop and shown you his world.

You glanced at your watch—the sun had fully set now, and Gotham's lights were starting to twinkle to life. Time to see what other memories Tim had woven into this elaborate puzzle.

As you stood to leave, Mrs. Chen appeared with a to-go cup of your usual order. "He said you might need the caffeine," she explained with a smile. "That boy thinks of everything, doesn't he?"

"He certainly tries," you agreed, accepting the cup gratefully. You carefully packed the tea-leaf rabbit and the journal into your bag alongside the others. Each rabbit was different, each clue more personal than the last. Despite your usual stance on Valentine's Day, you had to admit—Tim was making it very hard to maintain your academic disapproval of the holiday.

The old Gothic Revival bank building was a masterpiece of architecture, its gargoyles casting long shadows in the moonlight. You made your way to the roof access door—which, unsurprisingly, was already unlocked. Tim had clearly planned every detail. The winter wind whipped around you as you emerged onto the rooftop, carrying with it memories of that first night: the mix of fear and exhilaration as Tim showed you his world, the way your entire understanding of him had shifted and deepened in those moments.

The rooftop looked different in the peaceful night air than it had during that adrenaline-filled revelation. String lights had been carefully strung between the gargoyles, creating a soft glow that didn't interfere with the view of Gotham's skyline. And there, perched on the very same ledge where Tim had first removed his mask, sat another white rabbit.

This one was made of metal—but not just any metal. As you picked it up, you recognized the distinctive material: a piece of one of Tim's old bo staffs, carefully crafted into the shape of a rabbit. In its paws was a small USB drive designed to look like a domino mask.

You pulled out your tablet (because of course Tim knew you always carried it), and plugged in the drive. A single video file popped up, timestamped from three nights ago. When you pressed play, you had to stifle a laugh—it was surveillance footage from the Riddler's latest capture, but with audio included. You could hear Tim's voice, slightly distorted through his mask, workshopping Valentine's Day riddles while he fought.

"How's this one?" sound of a punch landing "Where memories are stored in paper and ink," dodge "Where knowledge flows as free as drink," sweep kick "Where first we met, though strangers then," grappling hook shot "Find your next clue with books as your friend."

Even Riddler had paused in their fight to critique his rhyming scheme.

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. The answer was obvious enough—the university library where you'd first met Tim during a Wayne Enterprises tech demonstration. You'd been the graduate student chosen to present your department's research, and he'd been the young CEO everyone underestimated. You'd ended up in a heated debate about the ethical implications of artificial intelligence that had run so long they'd had to reschedule the rest of the demonstrations.

"Only you would use a fight with Riddler to practice Valentine's Day clues," you murmured, tucking the metal rabbit carefully into your bag with the others. The library was only a few blocks away, and you had a feeling this elaborate trail was nearing its end.

As you made your way back to the roof access door, you paused to look out over the city. The string lights reflected off the gargoyles, making their fierce faces seem almost festive. For someone who claimed to be opposed to Valentine's Day, you were surprisingly eager to see what came next.

The trail Tim left wound through the city like a string of memories: from the university library (where you found a rabbit made of pressed book pages, holding a card catalog entry that led you to the museum), to the Gotham Museum of History (where a rabbit carved from an "authentic" Egyptian artifact—knowing Tim, a perfect replica—directed you to the park), to Robinson Park (where a rabbit made of preserved flowers pointed you toward Wayne Manor).

Each location held significance, each clue more elaborate than the last, until finally you found yourself walking the winding path through Wayne Manor's extensive gardens. The winter air had grown crisp, but strings of lights wound through the bare branches of the trees, creating a canopy of stars beneath the real ones. The path was lined with lanterns, their warm glow leading you deeper into the garden.

You turned a corner and stopped, a small laugh escaping your lips.

There, in the center of the garden, was a scene pulled straight from the pages of "Alice in Wonderland"—but with a distinctly Tim Drake twist. A long table had been set up to mirror the Mad Hatter's tea party illustration from your antique edition, complete with mismatched chairs of various sizes and styles. Dozens of teacups and saucers of different patterns were arranged along its length, some stacked precariously high, others laid out with scientific precision. Steam rose from various teapots, and platters of small sandwiches and pastries filled the spaces between.

Fairy lights were strung above in chaotic patterns that, you suddenly realized, mapped out actual constellations. Historical artifacts related to timekeeping—clearly on loan from the Wayne collection—were artfully arranged among the tea settings. Each place setting had a different book beside it, all first editions of various detective novels and scientific texts you'd discussed with Tim over the years.

And there, at the head of the table, sat Tim himself. He'd dressed for the part in a slightly modern take on Victorian formal wear, complete with a top hat that sat slightly askew on his dark hair. When he saw you, his face lit up with that particular smile he reserved just for you—the one that made him look younger, unburdened by the weight of his various responsibilities.

"You're late for tea," he called out, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But then again, I suppose we're all mad here."

You approached the table slowly, taking in every detail. Each rabbit you'd collected throughout the day had a place at the table, arranged chronologically to tell the story of your relationship. The white plush rabbit that had started it all sat in the chair to Tim's right—your usual spot whenever you dined at the manor.

"This is ridiculous," you said, but you couldn't keep the fondness from your voice. "You went through all this trouble just because I said I didn't want to celebrate Valentine's Day?"

Tim stood, moving around the table to pull out your chair. "Actually, I went through all this trouble because you said Valentine's Day was just a commercial holiday for proving love." He grinned. "So I decided to make it a historical, literary, and intellectual holiday instead. Complete with primary sources, mathematical precision in the constellation mapping, and several riddles that I'm pretty sure even Riddler would approve of."

As you sat down, taking in the elaborate setup that somehow managed to combine every aspect of your shared interests and history, you had to admit defeat. "Well played, Timothy," you conceded, watching as he poured tea from an antique pot. "Though I hope you realize this sets a rather high bar for any future holidays."

"Challenge accepted," he replied without missing a beat, and you could already see the gears turning in his mind. "Though I should warn you—I've already started planning for your birthday. How do you feel about a mystery dinner party based on unsolved historical cases?"

You laughed, reaching for his hand across the table. "Only you would turn my dislike of commercial holidays into an excuse for elaborate intellectual puzzles."

"Is it working?" he asked, and beneath the playful tone was a hint of genuine curiosity.

You looked around at the magical setting he'd created, at all the thoughtful details that spoke not just of love but of deep understanding. "Yes," you admitted. "Though don't expect me to start celebrating Groundhog Day anytime soon."

"Don't worry," Tim's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I already have plans for that involving quantum physics and weather pattern analysis."

You groaned, but squeezed his hand affectionately. Perhaps some holidays weren't so bad after all—especially when they were celebrated in such a distinctly Tim Drake fashion.

As the evening wore on, you shared stories over tea and finger sandwiches, Tim explaining the process behind each rabbit's creation ("Do you know how hard it is to preserve tea leaves in that shape? I had to consult three different botanical experts!") and you teasing him about using actual supervillain encounters as planning sessions ("I still can't believe you made Riddler critique your rhyme scheme").

The fairy lights twinkled overhead, their constellation patterns creating a map of significant moments in your relationship. Tim had thought of everything—even the tea selections told a story, from the strong coffee blend you'd shared on that first late night to the exotic varieties you'd discovered together over the years.

But you had one more surprise up your sleeve.

"Speaking of ridiculous planning," you said casually, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small flash drive. It was matte black, unmarked except for a tiny red robin etched into its surface.

Tim paused mid-sip, his eyes narrowing slightly at the device. "What's this?" He set his cup down and took the drive, turning it over in his hands with the careful attention he gave to all potential puzzles.

"You didn't seriously think I was going to just settle for second place in a holiday, did you?" You couldn't help but smirk. "Tay is a blabbermouth. You should know this by now. The moment she told me about your call, I knew I had to step up my game."

His eyes lit up with that particular spark that appeared whenever he encountered a new challenge. "Boot it up on your laptop," you suggested, trying not to look too pleased with yourself.

The two of you made your way into the Manor, leaving the magical garden setup behind. The halls were quiet—you suspected Alfred had ensured you'd have privacy for this elaborate Valentine's celebration. Tim led you to his study, a room that somehow managed to be both immaculately organized and completely chaotic, much like Tim's mind itself.

He settled into his chair, pulling his laptop from a drawer, and you positioned yourself behind him, resting your chin on top of his perpetually messy black hair. The familiar scent of his shampoo mixed with coffee and winter air wrapped around you as you watched him insert the drive.

Tim's fingers flew across the keyboard as he accessed the drive's contents, then stopped abruptly. His whole body went still in that way it did when his full attention had been captured by something particularly intriguing. On the screen before him were twelve heavily encrypted files, each one protected by a different type of encryption—some of which he recognized, others that appeared to be entirely custom.

"Your favorite," you murmured into his hair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "An actual challenge. Each file is encrypted with a different method, and each one contains a piece of a larger puzzle. Some of the encryption keys are based on our shared history, others will require actual detective work." You paused, unable to resist adding, "I may have consulted with Oracle on a few of them, just to make sure they were up to your standards."

Tim leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to look up at you with a mixture of surprise and delight. "You created an encryption-based scavenger hunt... for my scavenger hunt?"

"Mm-hmm," you confirmed. "Consider it your Valentine's Day gift—twelve puzzles that will actually challenge that big brain of yours. And before you ask, yes, I got Riddler's input on some of the riddles. He was surprisingly helpful once I explained I was trying to one-up you."

Tim's laugh echoed through the study. "I love you," he said, shaking his head. "You know that? Only you would respond to a citywide romantic scavenger hunt by creating an encrypted meta-puzzle."

"Well," you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "only you would turn Valentine's Day into an elaborate historical-literary-detective adventure just because I said I didn't like commercial holidays. I figured it was only fair to return the favor in our own particular style."

Tim was already turning back to his laptop, fingers hovering eagerly over the keyboard. "How long did this take you to set up?"

"Let's just say I haven't been actually working late all those nights this past month." You grinned. "Now, would you like a hint for the first encryption, or are you going to insist on solving it entirely on your own?"

"You know me better than that," Tim said, already pulling up his decryption programs. "But maybe save the hints for breakfast? Something tells me I'm going to be up all night with this."

"I counted on it," you replied, pulling up a second chair. "That's why I brought caffeine reserves. Happy Valentine's Day, Timothy."

The soft tapping of keys filled the study as Tim dove into your puzzle with characteristic enthusiasm, and you settled in to watch him work, content in the knowledge that you'd managed to surprise the World's Second Greatest Detective with a mystery of your own making.

.

.

.

Three days after Valentine's Day, the Batcave had become ground zero for Tim's increasing obsession with your final encrypted file. The previous eleven had fallen to his expertise within the first forty-eight hours—some taking mere minutes, others requiring a few hours of dedicated concentration. But this last one? This last one was driving him to the brink of madness.

"Master Timothy," Alfred observed from the cave's entrance, carefully balancing a tray of coffee and sandwiches, "perhaps a break would—"

"Can't break, Alfred," Tim muttered, pacing back and forth in front of the massive whiteboard he'd commandeered. "So close. Has to mean something."

The riddle was written across the board in Tim's increasingly frantic handwriting, repeated at least six times in different configurations:

'With his partner, Mr. Wright wasn't pleased

Although he would crack a smile whenever they farted and whenever they sneezed,

There was one tiny flaw that took away from their perfection

A small discrepancy that prevented a bigger connection

He thought about telling them, crafted his words, and took aim

Gathered all of his courage just to tell them.... he hated their [blank] [blank]'

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!" Tim suddenly exploded, throwing his hands up in frustration. His hair was sticking up in all directions from running his fingers through it repeatedly. "I don't hate anything about (Y/N)! Nothing! Zero things! This has to be wrong!"

Dick, who had been watching from his perch on the computer console with a mixture of amusement and concern, tried to intervene. "Maybe that's not the point of the—"

"No, no, there's something here," Tim cut him off, spinning back to the whiteboard. "The capitalization has to matter. Why is 'Wright' capitalized? Is it a reference to the Wright brothers? But what would aviation have to do with..."

"Drake," Damian's imperious voice cut through Tim's rambling as the youngest Wayne approached the whiteboard, eraser in hand. "I require this space for actual case work—"

Tim literally hissed at him, moving to physically block the board with his body. "Don't you dare! Not until I've figured out this stupid riddle!" His eyes were slightly wild, caffeine and determination creating a dangerous combination. "Touch this board and I will end you, demon spawn."

"Tt." Damian crossed his arms, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "You're being ridiculous. Over a Valentine's Day puzzle, no less."

"It's not just a puzzle," Tim protested, already darting back to the computer to review the previous eleven decoded files for the hundredth time. "It's... it's a challenge. From (Y/N). Who is absolutely brilliant and devious and..." He trailed off, scanning through lines of code with intense concentration.

"Totally played you," Jason finished, appearing from the shadows with his characteristic smirk. "Face it, Replacement. Your better half got you good."

"Not helping, Jason," Dick called out, though he was clearly fighting a smile.

Tim ignored them all, muttering to himself as he cross-referenced the previous solutions. "Nothing in files one through eleven indicates... no pattern in the encryption methods suggests... this is what I get for dating someone who's practically on par with me intellectually. They knew exactly how to..." He stopped suddenly, eyes widening. "Wait. Wright. WRIGHT. Not W-R-I-G-H-T but W-R-I-T-E?"

The cave fell silent as Tim's fingers flew across the keyboard with renewed purpose. Even Damian paused in his attempts to reclaim the whiteboard, watching his brother with reluctant curiosity.

"Write... writing... written?" Tim typed frantically, trying different variations. But the code remained stubbornly locked. Seven letters. He needed seven letters. "That's not it either! What the fuck!" He threw his arms up again, nearly knocking over his fifteenth cup of coffee.

"Language!" Dick chided automatically from his perch, though his grin suggested he was enjoying his little brother's descent into madness far too much.

A cheerful chime from the computer drew everyone's attention. A small animated version of you appeared in the corner of the screen—a chibi character complete with big eyes and an exaggerated smirk. It danced across his code, holding a sign that read "Need a hint? ♡"

Tim glared at the tiny digital version of you. "Away with you, foul temptress," he grumbled, jabbing at the keyboard to dismiss the hint system. The chibi just smiled wider and did a little spin.

"I can't believe they programmed a hint system with a chibi avatar," Jason snickered, leaning over Tim's shoulder to watch the animation. "That's both adorable and diabolical."

"Master Timothy," Alfred interjected, setting down a fresh cup of coffee and pointedly removing the empty ones, "perhaps if you accepted the hint—"

"No!" Tim protested, running both hands through his already chaotic hair. "No hints. I can figure this out. I have to figure this out. They spent a month creating this puzzle, I can't just—" He waved his hands frantically at the dancing chibi, which was now holding a sign that read "Your caffeine levels suggest you might need help! (◕‿◕✿)"

Damian, who had been watching this display with growing disdain, finally spoke up. "Drake, your pride is making you stupid. More stupid than usual, that is."

"Not helping, demon spawn," Tim muttered, but his eyes never left the screen. The chibi had started doing backflips across his code, each flip leaving a trail of sparkles that suspiciously highlighted certain letters in his previous attempts.

"Okay, okay, let me see this thing," Dick finally hopped down from his perch, moving to stand behind Tim. "Fresh eyes might help. The riddle's about someone named Wright—or write—who doesn't like something about their partner that's seven letters long..."

"Been there, tried that," Tim groaned, but shifted to let Dick see the screen better. "I've tried every seven-letter word I could think of that could possibly relate to our relationship."

Jason, now fully invested despite his earlier teasing, joined them at the computer. "What about their job? Their hobbies? Their—"

"Everything!" Tim threw his hands up. "I've tried everything! Their degree, their job, their favorite book genre, their coffee order—"

"Their coffee order isn't seven letters, Drake," Damian pointed out, having abandoned all pretense of not being interested.

"I KNOW THAT NOW!"

The chibi on screen did a particularly elaborate twirl, and a new hint bubble appeared: 'if seven letters are too hard try thinking of eight~♡♡'

"Eight?" all four brothers said in unison.

"But the blanks in the riddle..." Dick started.

"Clearly indicate two words..." Jason continued.

"Which should total seven letters..." Tim finished, slumping in his chair.

"Tt. You're all incompetent," Damian declared, shoving his way to the keyboard. He started typing rapidly, trying various eight-letter combinations.

Alfred, who had been quietly observing this whole scene, merely raised an eyebrow as he collected another round of empty coffee cups. "Perhaps, young masters, you might consider—"

"Not now, Alfred!" they chorused, all hunched over the keyboard as the chibi continued its merry dance across their failed attempts.

Even Bruce, who had entered the cave somewhere between Tim's fifteenth and sixteenth coffee, found himself drawn into the puzzle. He stood behind his sons, cowl pushed back, frowning at the riddle on the whiteboard.

"Have you considered—" he began.

"Yes," all four boys cut him off.

"What about—"

"Tried it."

"Maybe it's—"

"Nope."

The chibi version of you was now doing the macarena, trailing hearts and question marks in its wake. A new speech bubble appeared: 'Wow, the whole family's here! Still not getting warmer though! ╮(︶▽︶)╭'

"They're enjoying this way too much," Tim grumbled, but there was unmistakable fondness in his voice. "You all realize they're probably watching this through the cave's security feed, right?"

Four heads snapped up to look at the nearest camera. The chibi did a cheerful wave.

The sound of feminine giggling drew everyone's attention to the cave entrance. Cass and Stephanie stood there, both clearly trying—and failing—to maintain straight faces. Stephanie had her phone out, obviously recording the scene before her.

"Oh, don't mind us," Stephanie managed between poorly suppressed snickers. "Please, continue. This is gold."

Tim's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You know something."

Cass's smile was enigmatic as ever, but there was definite amusement in her eyes. She signed quickly, 'It's obvious.'

"If it's so obvious, care to share with the class?" Jason asked, crossing his arms.

Stephanie lost it completely then, doubling over with laughter. "Oh no, no way. (Y/N) swore us to secrecy. They said, and I quote, 'Let them suffer.'"

"They did well," Cass nodded approvingly, watching as the chibi on screen started doing the robot dance.

"Et tu, Cass?" Tim groaned, slumping further in his chair. "I thought you loved me."

"I do," Cass signed, her smile growing. "That's why this is funny."

A new hint bubble appeared above the dancing chibi: 'The girls know what's up! (｡♥‿♥｡)'

"Wait," Dick straightened up. "If Steph and Cass know..."

"Then it has to be something obvious we're all missing," Bruce finished, his detective instincts kicking in.

"Or something only people who weren't raised by the World's Greatest Detective would think of," Stephanie suggested innocently, still recording.

Tim squinted at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," Stephanie sing-songed, moving to perch on one of the cave's workbenches. "Just that sometimes the simplest answer is the right one. But please, keep trying to decrypt it like it's a message from the League of Assassins."

"I hate all of you," Tim declared, turning back to the computer. The chibi had started a conga line with multiple copies of itself across his screen.

'Simple is best! ♪~ ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ' the hint bubble agreed.

The chibi suddenly stopped its conga line, popping up in the center of the screen with an exaggerated thinking pose. A new message bubble appeared:

'Not a hint don't worry! But if I was me I would have asked the people I knew wouldn't get involved in this for help or for something else. You've sorted out two. The last remains a mystery but hey are there. Always watching. ;P'

Tim's eyes widened. "People who wouldn't get involved... sorted out two..."

"Oh my god," Stephanie whispered to Cass, "I think he's finally getting it."

"Slow," Cass signed back with an affectionate smile.

"Wait," Dick leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "Always watching?"

"The cameras?" Jason suggested, glancing up at the cave's security system.

"No, no," Tim was muttering, pulling up the previous eleven decoded files again. "It's something about people who wouldn't get involved... who have we talked to about this? Oracle helped with some of the encryption, Riddler gave input on the riddles..."

"Don't forget Alfred's obvious disapproval of your caffeine intake," Damian pointed out dryly.

The chibi started doing backflips again, leaving a trail of sparkles that seemed to be trying to direct their attention somewhere specific. Tim was too focused on his screen to notice, but Bruce's eyes narrowed as he followed the pattern of the sparkles.

"Tim," Bruce started, but Stephanie's barely contained laughter cut him off.

"No, no, let him figure it out," she insisted, still recording. "This is just getting good."

Tim suddenly went very still, the kind of stillness that usually preceded a major breakthrough. His eyes slowly moved from the screen to where Alfred stood, calmly arranging a fresh pot of coffee on a nearby table.

"The monthly lunches," Tim breathed out. "You and (Y/N) have monthly lunches together."

Alfred's expression remained perfectly neutral, but there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Indeed, Master Timothy. Your partner and I do enjoy our regular discussions about literature, history, and..." he paused meaningfully, "various other topics."

The chibi on screen started doing cartwheels of excitement.

"You know the answer," Tim accused, spinning his chair to face Alfred fully. "You've known this whole time!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Master Timothy," Alfred replied, but his eyes were twinkling. "Though I must say, your partner's creativity with encryption methods is quite impressive. Almost as impressive as their ability to maintain composure during our last lunch while you were in the corner booth trying to decode the ninth file."

"I KNEW I saw them that day!" Tim exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. "You two were in on this together!"

"Tt. Of course Pennyworth knows," Damian crossed his arms. "They probably planned half of this over their pretentious tea meetings."

"Earl Grey is hardly pretentious, Master Damian," Alfred corrected mildly. "Though I must say, the Ceylon blend we had while discussing the final riddle was particularly excellent."

The chibi was now doing a victory dance, complete with tiny fireworks effects.

'Alfred appreciation squad! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶' the hint bubble proclaimed.

"Alfred," Tim tried, putting on his best pleading expression. "My most favorite person in this entire family..."

"I believe, Master Timothy," Alfred cut him off smoothly, "that accepting a hint at this point would rather defeat the purpose of your partner's carefully crafted puzzle." He began gathering empty coffee cups onto his tray. "Though I will say, sometimes the answer is rather closer than one might think."

With that cryptic statement, Alfred turned and headed for the cave steps, leaving behind a chorus of groans and, in Tim's case, a dramatic slump back into his chair.

"That's it," Jason announced, shoving Tim's chair aside with one hand. "I can't take this anymore."

"Jason, no—!" Tim lunged for the keyboard, but he was too late.

Jason clicked the hint button with excessive force, prompting the chibi to do an excited spin before presenting a new message bubble:

'There's a spelling error in the Riddle. One letter should not be where it is. One letter. One.'

"YOU TRAITOR!" Tim shoved Jason away from the computer, but the damage was done. The chibi was now doing an enthusiastic spelling bee dance, complete with tiny letter blocks floating around it.

"You're welcome," Jason smirked, dodging Tim's attempt to strangle him. "Now maybe we can all go home sometime this year."

"I had it under control!"

"You really didn't," Dick chimed in, already scanning the riddle again with new eyes. "Okay, so one letter is wrong..."

"But which one?" Bruce muttered, moving closer to the whiteboard.

Stephanie was practically vibrating with contained laughter at this point, while Cass simply smiled her knowing smile.

The chibi started juggling alphabet blocks, occasionally dropping one with an exaggerated 'oops!' expression.

Tim had returned to the whiteboard, scanning each line with intense concentration. "One letter... one wrong letter... but which..."

"Perhaps," Damian suggested with exaggerated patience, "you should focus on the words that matter most in the riddle."

"All the words matter!" Tim protested, but his eyes were fixed on the final line. "Gathered all of his courage just to tell them.... he hated their [blank] [blank]"

Dick had gone oddly quiet, his eyes darting between the riddle and Tim's increasingly frantic expression. Then, without warning, he reached for the eraser.

"Dick, I swear to god if you—" Tim started, but froze as Dick deliberately erased just the 'W' in 'Mr. Wright.'

The cave went silent.

The chibi on screen started doing enthusiastic cheerleader moves with tiny pom-poms.

"Mr... Right," Tim said slowly, then louder, "Mr. RIGHT!"

"FINALLY!" Stephanie threw her hands up, nearly dropping her phone. "I thought we were going to be here until next Valentine's Day!"

Cass was signing rapidly, 'Now he sees.'

"Wait," Jason leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "If it's Mr. Right, and the blanks need eight letters total..."

Tim was already typing frantically. "Last name... last name... what's wrong with their last name?" His fingers paused over the keyboard. "Eight letters..."

The chibi had produced a tiny banner that read 'So close! SO CLOSE!'

Bruce, who had been watching this entire scene unfold with what might have been amusement (it was sometimes hard to tell with him), finally spoke up. "Tim, what's your last name?"

"That doesn't make sense," Tim huffed in frustration, "my last name is five letters. D-R-A-K-E." He wrote it out on the whiteboard, underlining each letter for emphasis.

The chibi suddenly produced a tiny professor's cap and glasses, pulling down a mathematical chart. A new equation appeared:

'5+7=8!! And you've only figured out you need seven letters. Not how many characters you need. ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ'

Stephanie was practically crying with laughter at this point. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I've ever recorded. The look on his face right now..."

"Wait," Dick moved closer to the whiteboard, looking between the equation and Tim's written name. "Five plus seven equals eight... that's not..."

"Mathematics appears to have escaped all of you," Damian sneered, though he was eyeing the equation with growing interest.

"Shut up, demon spawn, I'm thinking," Tim muttered, staring at his last name on the board. "Five letters plus seven letters somehow equals eight... but that's not mathematically possible unless..."

The chibi had started drawing something in the air with a sparkly pen, but kept erasing it before anyone could read it properly.

Jason, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly straightened up. "Holy shit," he whispered, then started laughing. "Holy shit, replacement, you're an idiot."

"What? What am I missing?" Tim spun to face him, but Jason just shook his head, now laughing too hard to speak.

Then Jason straightened up, addressing the chibi directly. "Seven letters, right?"

The chibi nodded enthusiastically, releasing tiny explosions of confetti.

"And I'm guessing eight characters?"

More vigorous nodding, the chibi now practically bouncing with excitement.

"So," Jason's grin grew wider, "there's a space somewhere. The password isn't actually an answer, is it? It's a question."

The chibi erupted into a full celebration mode, throwing confetti everywhere and doing backflips while tiny fireworks exploded across the screen.

"A question?" Tim repeated slowly, then his eyes went wide. "A question... about my last name... seven letters but eight characters..."

Stephanie had given up trying to hold the phone steady, she was laughing so hard. "Oh my god, he's actually getting it."

"Finally," Cass signed, smiling broadly.

"Drake," Damian said with exaggerated patience, "what might someone ask about your last name that would require seven letters and a space?"

Dick's face split into a huge grin as he caught on. "Oh. Oh that's good. That's really good."

Bruce had actually cracked a smile, which in Bruce-terms was practically rolling on the floor laughing.

Tim stared at his last name written on the whiteboard, then at the riddle about Mr. Right, then back at his name. The chibi was now holding up a tiny sign with a question mark on it, bouncing it up and down suggestively.

Suddenly, Tim shoved everyone away from the computer with such force that Jason nearly toppled into Dick. His fingers flew across the keyboard: M-A-R-R-Y-M-E.

The file lock clicked open with a satisfying digital chime. The chibi threw up its tiny arms in victory before dissolving into a shower of hearts.

The screen filled with photos, cycling through like a slideshow: Tim and you in the university library during that first heated AI debate, both of you gesturing passionately; a candid shot from the coffee shop where you'd first really talked, Tim's eyes bright with caffeine and interest as you explained your thesis; the two of you at a Wayne gala, you rolling your eyes at something while Tim tried not to laugh; a series of pictures from various puzzle nights and study sessions that had slowly transformed into dates; the first picture of you both after Tim revealed his identity as Red Robin, you looking utterly unfazed while pointing out the flaws in his attempt to throw you off the trail; countless moments of your shared life together, each one flowing into the next.

Then the photos faded into video footage. It showed Tim from just the night before, sprawled across his bed, completely passed out from his puzzle-solving attempts. He was drooling slightly on his pillow, his hair a chaotic mess, looking absolutely nothing like the composed CEO he presented to the world.

You appeared in frame, pressing a finger to your lips in a conspiratorial gesture to the camera. In your other hand was a red velvet box. You tiptoed to Tim's jacket—the same one currently thrown over the back of his chair in the cave—and carefully slipped a golden band into the pocket.

The video faded to black, and text appeared on screen:

'This one is a click choice: Yes or No'

The cave had gone completely silent. Even Stephanie had stopped laughing, her phone still recording but forgotten in her hand.

Tim slowly reached for his jacket, his hand shaking slightly as it dipped into the pocket. The ring caught the cave's lighting as he pulled it out, simple and elegant and perfectly sized for his finger.

The chibi reappeared on screen, now wearing a tiny tuxedo and holding what appeared to be wedding bells, waiting patiently for input.

Tim's hand was trembling slightly as he slipped the ring onto his finger—a perfect fit. Through vision that was definitely not blurring with tears, he clicked 'Yes.'

The screen immediately filled with your face, beaming with triumphant joy. "I know you love those 'how it's made' videos so... here's mine! This actually has taken me the better part of a year to make. It is shockingly difficult to write code while having emotional moments, so I had a little help." Your grin turned mischievous. "Actually, everyone around you had a part. Oh yeah. They are all traitors who have been lying about not knowing the answer."

Tim spun in his chair to face his family, who were all wearing varying degrees of satisfied smiles.

"Jason helped pick out the riddles with me," you continued, and Jason gave an exaggerated bow. "The Mr. Wright one was his favorite."

"Because it was genius," Jason confirmed, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Dick did distraction on you, kept you busy these last few months."

"All those 'emergency' training sessions?" Dick grinned. "Not so emergency after all."

"Damian did the part of figuring out your ring size, without cutting off your finger—it was a hard talk down."

"Tt. Your hands move too much when you sleep, Drake," Damian commented, though he looked slightly proud.

"Stephanie and Cass helped be moral support."

"And recorded everything for posterity!" Stephanie added, still filming.

"And of course," your voice softened slightly, "I had to ask Bruce and Alfred both for permission."

Bruce's hand came to rest on Tim's shoulder, squeezing gently. Alfred, who had mysteriously reappeared in the cave, was definitely dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"I even got Conner and Bart to help out with keeping you later at boys nights so I could finish up the code on these."

Tim let out a watery laugh. "That's why they kept insisting on 'one more round' of everything?"

The chibi had returned, now joined by tiny digital versions of the entire family, all doing a celebration dance.

"You all knew," Tim accused, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "This entire time, you all knew."

"Master Timothy," Alfred said warmly, "some mysteries are worth waiting to solve."

The screen flickered, and your voice took on a more serious tone. "Now that little me has gotten her celebration over with, I'm sure congratulations can wait for the moment. I ask that everyone other than Tim leave the room. Including the cameras. As much as blackmail sounds funny and all, this part is the important one and it's private."

Your leg had started bouncing in the video—a nervous tell Tim knew well. The family exchanged knowing looks and began filing out. Stephanie finally lowered her phone, giving Tim a quick kiss on the cheek before following the others. Bruce was the last to leave, pausing only to squeeze Tim's shoulder once more before heading up the cave steps.

The cameras' red lights blinked off one by one.

Only then did you smile softly at the camera, and Tim's heart caught at the vulnerability in your expression. "I've never been one to be sugary. Pet names are not my thing, I'm not one for flowers or chocolates, I'm not a normal partner and you made me feel okay in that and seen." You paused, taking a steadying breath. "But if you're seeing this part of the video, it means you clicked yes. I had to prerecord this otherwise I'd be a crying mess right now. Which is less than needed for this."

Tim leaned forward in his chair, his new ring catching the light as he reached out to touch the screen where your face was displayed. The cave was completely silent now except for your voice and the soft hum of the computer.

You took a deep inhale before letting it out slowly, your eyes fixed on the camera as if you could see Tim watching. "The times we have spent together over the years have been some of the best moments of my life. From the camping trip that ended in a spider-infested tent to late night binge sessions of that stupid detective show that's not even in English that we both hate to love."

A soft laugh escaped Tim as he remembered that camping trip—how you'd maintained your analytical calm even while helping him evacuate the tent, cataloging each spider species you encountered.

"You have never once made me feel odd or unloved and I hope I made you feel the same even if it's difficult for me to articulate." Your voice grew softer, more intense. "You are my person and I don't put that lightly. In a universe filled with millions upon millions of atoms, I'm so glad that mine have gotten to know yours."

Tim's vision blurred again, but he didn't try to wipe away the tears this time.

"And although I don't believe in marriage as I told you when we first met," you continued with a slight smile, "I'd rather die of radiation poisoning from sleeping next to you for the rest of our lives than never have gotten the opportunity." Your own eyes were getting watery now, despite your earlier claim about pre-recording to avoid crying. "You are my missing piece, Timothy. I love you. And I'm so excited to see where this new ring-sized door leads."

The chibi appeared one final time, offering a tiny tissue to the screen before fading away with a gentle shower of hearts.

Tim sat in the quiet of the cave, his finger tracing the band of his ring, a smile spreading across his face despite the tears. Trust you to propose with encrypted files, riddles, and a speech that referenced both quantum physics and your shared hatred of pretentious foreign detective shows.

He reached for his phone, knowing exactly where you'd be waiting.

"Hi future husband," you answered on the first ring, making Tim bark out a watery laugh.

"You. Suck. You know that?" He responded, voice thick with emotion. "You beat me to the punch!"

"Huh?"

"Check my bedside drawer."

There was a pause, then the sound of movement on your end. Tim could perfectly picture you crossing your shared bedroom to his side of the bed. The drawer squeaked slightly as you opened it—he'd been meaning to fix that.

Then silence.

"Timothy Jackson Drake," your voice came back, slightly strangled. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Third drawer back, behind my spare laptop charger," Tim confirmed, unable to keep the grin off his face despite his tears. "I've been carrying it around for two months trying to figure out the perfect way to ask. I had this whole plan involving that quantum physics conference next month and the observatory and—" He broke off with a laugh. "And you just completely outmaneuvered me with probably the most elaborate proposal in history."

The sound of a box opening came through the phone, followed by your sharp intake of breath. "You got me a titanium ring."

"With a carbon fiber inlay," Tim added. "Because you said traditional jewelry metals weren't practical for someone who works with chemicals regularly. I had it custom made to be acid-resistant."

A choked laugh came through the phone. "We really are perfect for each other, aren't we?"

"Well," Tim smiled, looking down at his own ring, "I did just click 'yes' to spending the rest of my life with you, so I'd say so." He paused, then added, "Though I have to know—what would the chibi have done if I'd clicked 'no'?"

"Bold of you to assume I programmed that as an option," you replied, and Tim could hear your smile. "The 'no' button was just for show. It would have rick-rolled you and then asked again."

Tim laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the empty cave. "I love you so much. You know that?"

"I love you too," you replied softly. "Now come home so I can see how that ring looks on you in person. And maybe you can tell me more about this quantum physics conference proposal plan that I completely derailed."

"On my way," Tim said, already heading for his motorcycle. Then he paused. "Wait—do we have to tell the family they can come back into the cave now, or..."

"Oh, they've definitely been watching on the backup cameras that I didn't have access to shut off," you said matter-of-factly. "Hi everyone! Sorry for the emotional display!"

Distant cheering could be heard from the upper levels of the cave, confirming your theory.

"Typical," Tim sighed fondly, but he couldn't stop smiling. "See you in ten minutes?"

"Make it five," you countered. "I think we have some celebrating to do before Alfred inevitably appears with engagement cake."

"It's probably already baking," Tim agreed, swinging onto his bike. "Love you, future spouse."

Your laugh was the last thing he heard before ending the call, and it carried him all the way home.

.

.

.

[cursed-candlehop]

One thing I find fascinating about Veilguard is how you're constantly just a little bit too close to broke, especially compared to Inquisition where you definitely have spare gold for luxuries after a while.

It's kind of emblematic of the differences between Inquisition and Veilguard, in which the former is, in part, a Politics Simulator about building a strong, independent organization theoretically capable of toppling small countries, whereas the latter is essentially assembling the Avengers but with less irony poisoning and without some rich fucker to bankroll the whole thing. Unless we count Solas supplying the Free Real Estate I guess.

Also interesting is how this mirrors Mass Effect - Veilguard has the same "assembling a crack team with a big ol' mortally dangerous final mission to save the world" structure as ME2, whereas Inquisition took a lot of notes from ME3's army building and diplomacy stuff.

Fascinating, innit?

... Also there's a save editor for Veilguard that lets you edit the amount of resources you have (among other, arguably more interesting things), which is really nice when you have like eight playthroughs to get through for fic research.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

any thoughts on lilias parenting style?

I’ve long held the belief that Lilia is not the “best” or “perfect” parent in TWST, but I love that he’s so imperfect yet is willing to learn and grow from his failures and shortcomings. It’s really commendable how far he has come, especially considering that he used to be much gruffer and made claims like he never wants a child or he’s not suited to be a father and is repulsed by the very idea of it.

It’s sad to think about how, for the longest time, Lilia believed he was incapable of loving others—both receiving love and giving it in a parental capacity. He says as much to Meleanor before what could be her last stand. Bro has so much love to give 😭 and it’s so fascinating to see book 7 focus on that love between parent and child, blood be damned.

Of course Silver is the quintessential child we all think of whenever Lilia’s parenting is brought up. Silver says it must have been tough for Lilia to raise him as a single parent and with limited knowledge of human children—but Lilia still did it, and out of the kindness of his heart, for an infant who was essentially a complete stranger. However, as far back as the human-fae conflict of Briar Country, Lilia was literally throwing his life and reputation on the line for his “children”. He protected Malleus’s egg with his own body. He provided the magic that would shave off several hundred years from his lifespan to ensure that his prince hatched. He allowed himself to be chased out of the capital city but still made the time to be there for Malleus, as well as shielded Silver from the ugly truth. In modern day, we also see Lilia him imparting sage wisdom onto his boys and making efforts to help them with their own downfalls: advising Malleus on the differences between fae and humans, asking the other first years to watch over Sebek, inviting Malleus to events, reminding Sebek to be kind to his human peers, etc. Above all else, Lilia promotes understanding, and wishes for a world where all the races can live together. He leaves Silver with the same sentiments, and in him, Lilia’s legacy of love can live on.

As I said briefly mentioned before, Lilia isn’t perfect. He’s putting his own life in danger and taking the emotional brunt of the events of the past for them. He hides the circumstances surrounding Malleus’s birth, the truth behind Silver’s origins, and many other details pertaining to the warring period. In modern day, Lilia is quick to make an exit when the dark carriage comes for him, trying to save his boys the agony of a prolonged good-bye. There are also just general parenting failures under his belt: feeding babies milk through a cup (you’re supposed to use a fitted nipple, otherwise the baby could choke), not being concerned when Silver is missing + expecting him to come back on his own, general emotional insensitivity and unawareness (him laughing when Silver realized their ear shapes are different and they’re not actually blood-related), leaving Silver unsupervised in their forest cottage while he goes off to travel, taking his pranks and mischief too far (thus causing trouble for Silver, such as Endless Halloween Night), his… cooking… etc. He does manage to mend some of those issues (like having the Zigvolts help watch Silver or letting slightly older Silver housesit with the animals), but other issues like the milk in a cup persist. Additionally, Lilia can be inconsistent with his emotional awareness, as he does not realize his Halloween mischief would worry Silver as much as it did. At the same time, Lilia is overall more in tune with his son’s feelings (he’s one of the few who can read the notoriously stoic Silver’s emotions flawlessly). However, Lilia still prioritizes keeping his childrens’ eyes away from the truth and instead is shouldering the pain for them. We find ourselves circling back around to all the sacrifices Lilia has made for Malleus, Silver, and yes, even Sebek—and I’ll bet that Lilia is willing to go the distance and do more.

I actually wonder if Lilia’s “I’ll shoulder everything for you” parenting originates in part from him overcompensating for the love he never received as a child. He was an orphan taken in as a ward for his country, shunned by the Briar Valley senators for being some filthy bat with no proper lineage to speak of. He didn’t get the girl he crushed on and instead lost her and his best friend (still MIA) to the war. He was banished from the capital and loathed for his mere existence. He had things thrown at him and was chased out of cities. Lilia has experienced so much hatred and vitriol that I would not fault him if he turned bitter and sent that same hate and vitriol back. That would be the easy thing to do. But… he has also experienced great kindness and acceptance along his travels. Strangers inviting him into their homes. People telling him about their lives. Offerings of food and a warm bed. It is through these experiences that Lilia is shown an alternative: a world of love, not war. Then, upon seeing these children in need of guidance, he sees a younger version of himself in them—lonely (Malleus, isolated in his castle), lost (Silver, without his parents), confused (Sebek, about his half fae/half human identity). He knows what could become of them if he lets hate envelop their hearts. And Lilia doesn’t want what he suffered through to befall them, nor a future where the same vitriol is perpetuated. So… he throws himself into ensuring these boys have a guiding star, someone who champions empathy and cooperation between all races, at the cost of himself.

It’s fascinating to consider that Silver (the one who was most closely raised by Lilia) reflects his father’s teachings but also Lilia’s self-sacrificial behavior, even though Silver isn’t fully aware of what Lilia gave to raise him. Silver consciously believes that he hadn’t done enough to “pay back” his dad (similar to how Lilia may have taken Malleus under his wing to “pay back” his debt of Maleficia taking him as an orphan in and not being there for Meleanor in her final battle). To compensate, Silver keeps pushing himself to do things like suppress his own sadness at Lilia’s farewell party, taking physical blows for Lilia, and even believing that he isn’t worthy of Lilia’s love. I guess the sayings “like father, like son” and “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” are applicable here.

Anyway! Lilia as a father (whether literally or figuratively) will never not be interesting to me.

[rebelliousstories]

By Any Other Name

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: Dwayne x Reader

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1,073

Main Masterlist: Here

Lost Boys Masterlist: Here

Summary: There’s a certain charm of learning about different traditions and cultures around the holidays.

Consider Donating: Here

“Come on, Dwayne! We’ll miss the seven-thirty show!” Being dragged through the streets of Santa Carla near the beach was not how he intended to spend his evening; but he was not complaining now.

There was a multi-cultural holiday festival happening downtown, and she had not stopped talking about it all week. Tons of different stalls littered the blocked off streets. So many different cultural representatives in such a tiny area, but that was what made it exciting. With so much to do, the couple knew that their evening was going to be full of adventure.

Their first stop was the Greek stall, where young boys were singing their versions of Christmas carols. Beautifully decorated boats with gold painted nuts were held in their hands, and there were also some for sale in front. Different treats were also available, to which she roped Dwayne into trying. Figs, nuts, pieces of lamb, and even some kourabiedes; cookies made from butter and almonds, like a shortbread. She managed to convince Dwayne to get a little boat that was navy blue and gold, with a depiction of Poseidon on it for Laddie, sighting that she knew he would enjoy having something n his stocking on Christmas Day.

A French stall beckoned them after. There were also tons of sweet treats for them to eat, including what Americans called a Yule Log, but the French called bûche de Noël. The traditions they learned about was not unlike America, just with much more emphasis on the sweets it appeared.

Madagascar and Colombia were right next to each other which led to the couple spending twenty minutes just between those two stalls. They got lychees from the Madagascar side, which were so sugary sweet and perfectly ripe. And buñuelos from the Colombian people, filled with so much cheese that the couple took turns doing cheese pulls. They listened as the representatives spoke of their midnight mass that the majority of their people went to, and drew their own comparisons and contrasts.

It was so genuinely fascinating that so many different cultures, countries and peoples who weren’t even all Christian celebrated the holiday.

They tried Nigerian food next. As they paid and took a plate of jollof rice, stew, pounded yam, and vegetables, Dwayne could not help but crack a joke.

“Are you sure we didn’t come here just so that you could eat a bunch,” he teased, wiping the corner of her mouth free from some stew that lingered.

“It’s Christmas. We’re supposed to eat a lot. Besides,” she held out a spoonful of mixed food, “I don’t hear you complaining.”

Taking the bite, he chewed it fully before responding. “I’m not. Just pointing something out.”

Leaving the Belgium stall, they held a small bag that contained some mystery presents for the people in the cave, as well as another plate of food for them to split. Finding a spot for them to sit down, their aching feet were relieved from the pressure of all their walking and standing. Passing food back and forth, she took a moment to look at her ethereal boyfriend. It honestly made sense that he was a vampire to her; Dwayne was just far too pretty to be a mortal man.

“I can feel you staring.” He called out, breaking her from her trance. His eyes cut over as he shoveled another bite into his mouth. “You good, princess?”

“What was Christmas like when you were young?”

It was such a simple question, but it held such weight. Dwayne gave her the late again and stayed silent. Fearing that she had offended him, she quickly tried to back track her statement, only to be stopped by his hand pressing against her racing lips.

“Princess, calm down. It’s fine,” he tried to reassure her, but he could still see the fearful glaze over her eyes.

“Christmas was beautiful. We didn’t really have a name for it because we didn’t believe in Christianity when I was young, but the end of year celebrations were always great.’

“Everyone gathered together. All of the men went out to hunt leaving the women and children to make decorations and gifts. We would make some once the adults returned from the bones and pelts of the animals they caught. Everyone had a job.’

Dwayne paused once more, getting a distant look into his eyes. She reached over and placed her hand on his own, to which he grasped hers a little tighter. “There was dancing, feasting, and just a general ease of celebrations. It was beautiful.”

“It sounds wonderful Dwayne.”

Focusing on the crowd ahead, the couple found themselves leaning in closer to each other as they enjoyed the company of the other. At some point, Dwayne threw his arm around her shoulders to tug her closer to his bare chest, because nothing was going to convince that man to wear a shirt.

“I miss that, honestly.” He began, breaking their silent bubble. Looking down at the woman in his arms, he smiled at the sight of her rosy cheeks.

“But I love that I can make more Christmas memories with you now.”

He finished his little confession with a sweet kiss to her lips. They were a little cold, but that did not matter to him. His were probably in the same condition, and a little chapped.

“Do you wanna finish going through the stalls? Or do you wanna head home to the cave?” She offered, snuggling closer to him still.

“What time is sunrise?”

“About seven. Maybe a little before.”

With a smirk, Dwayne looked towards the stalls before them with determination. “We only did six stalls. Let’s see if we can’t hit all twenty before this closes. Plus, you wanted to see the cultural show and all we’ve done is eat and get gifts.”

Smiling, she grabbed their plate and hastily let them finish the food, before speed walking over to the stage that had been set up. As they tucked in for the show, Dwayne leaned in so he was able to whisper into her ear.

“We can bring Laddie next time. But under no circumstances can Paul and Marko know about this.” Her giggle came out much louder than she intended, causing them to garner some unwanted attention.

“I’m okay with this plan.” She tucked herself underneath his arm once more, and rested her hand on his knee, content on watching the show before them.

[lipstickchainsaw]

The thing I find compelling about The Power Fantasy (the first volume arrived and I want to get these thoughts out before I read more) is what it does with the logic of nuclear deterrence and MAD.

Usually, when we talk about geopolitics, we talk about whole countries as coherent entities, almost like individuals: America says this, Russia says that. The more educated among us might say Washington and Moscow, instead, or even the White House and the Kremlin, which gets to a more nuanced understanding, but the underlying logic remains:

The institutions in question aren't fully coherent entities. They consist of many people with many different opinions, different factions struggling over the levers of power within those institutions. Even a dictator's orders get interpreted, and are informed by other people within the institution. There is no true individual in the Superpower.

And The Power Fantasy looks at all that and goes 'but what if there was?'

Now, I've read Bret Devereaux' introductory overview of the theory of Nuclear Deterrence, so I have a basic understanding of the logic involved here, and it makes for fascinating interpersonal dynamics.

On the one hand, you don't want to be too nice. You don't want to make it clear to everyone that you will never use your power as the consequences are too disastrous, because then everyone else will just walk right over you and take away the things you care about that they want. You have to have some credible red lines in order to be taken seriously as a Superpower.

But on the other hand, if you come across like a hair-trigger who'll threaten nuclear annihilation at the drop of a hat, people will either stop taking you seriously and eventually call your bluff, or consider you enough of a threat that they'll all team up to remove you because you're too much of a risk. You have to be able to be talked to to be tolerated as a Superpower.

So you have to be sane and reasonable, but you also have to have teeth, and in this middle ground, you still have desires and political ideals you want to achieve. Those are goals the others don't want you to achieve, so you step up to those red lines of theirs, just close enough to go 'come on, are you really going to respond to this?' to make them seem like they're overreacting and instead have to tolerate you doing this, which gives you a small entry point to further encroach on their territory. After all, 'come on, you didn't press the button last time, why would you do it now?'

Like what Heavy did to the US government in issue 1, and like Heavy, sometimes you misjudge how serious those red lines are. After all, even on the institutional level where these games were played during the Cold War, they're not necessarily rational actors. They can still very much panic as a result of misjudging or misunderstanding actions from the other side, and before you know it, the dominoes start falling.

This is why communication even between Superpowers that hate one another is vital, since it's the only way to stop those misunderstandings from happening, and it's why Etienne's role is genuinely vital.

But we shouldn't misunderstand what we're talking about here. When we talk about the logic of nuclear deterrence, we automatically talk about it in euphemisms, in more abstract terms, because the reality we're actually talking about is the destruction of all life on the planet (by and large), and this is the other reason the individuality of the Superpowers in The Power Fantasy is so captivating.

In the larger institutions, this logic is set in institutional policies and procedures, executed by many people up and down a command chain.

Here, this logic has to be worked out and worked through by individual people.

And this is rough, because, ah, most people don't actually want to destroy the world. It isn't exactly moral or ethical to even try to. Our normal way of interacting with the world, our usual moral intuitions and rules are counterproductive once you're operating on this level, and this also takes a toll on who you are as a person.

The very first conversation in this story is about this very topic. Valentina doesn't want to take over the world in 1966, because that's clearly horribly immoral, but by 1999 she's had to compromise on all those values she has so very much anyway. Etienne, instead, tries to hold onto his larger ethical framework that lets him run through all the above logic in order to stay sane.

I imagine I'll find out how the others approach these issues once I crack the actual book open.

[nevertheless-moving]

More from the Hesina Willshaper AU. Specifically Continued from Here.

while hesina and Lirin were travelling with the band of freed slaves the two were loosely in charge, but decent enough at delegating that other people quickly took on major leadership rules.

erk. gonna need a bunch of ocs

layla, 8th nahn before being sold to pay family debts. quartermaster/ house steward role. roughly same age as hesina. worked mostly as a house slave.

she had actually managed to half pay off her slave price, something she gripes about for laughs, she could have bought cool stuff with that money. most of the money came from the child she had, who was sold as a baby, wouldn't be able to find it if she wanted to, and she's not even completely sure she does.

layla is fascinated by different peoples religions, languages, beliefs...she's met people from a surprising number of countries working as a lighteye's servant. mostly self taught reading, hesina teachers her to write. hesina and her talk a lot about religion and philosophy. one of the few people who doesn't put hesina on a pedestal. hesina's first squire.

it seems that the squire rules are different for each order. i'm wildly but confidently headcanoning that willshapers get exactly ten, and they can tangibly feel each squire bond being formed.

willshapers have an interesting relationship to Connection. Connections can free you. Connections can become chains. best to be aware. either side of the willshapers squire bond can break the connection at any time.

(willshapers also have an interesting relationship to Oaths. Oaths can very definitely become chains. they just... i mean oaths still matter, but they don't take breaking them as seriously as some of the orders. circumstances matter. people grow. the spren once vowed not to bond with the singers again, and yet...it's been millenia. The lightspren are thinking. Things have changed.)

they're not freeing people because they made an oath. They made an oath because they chose to free people.

-

Ruush, 5th nahn before being enslaved for refusing to follow orders. One of the only ones with actual military training, though his leg was broken and healed wrong, meaning that he could only train, not fight, until he became hesina's second squire and healed.

Often Lirin's guard. Only 15 years younger than Lirin, but has for sure called him dad. Lirin calls him son and tries not to lecture him too much on being a soldier.

Ruush is mildly bemused by the entire concept of pacifism (Not common among Alethi!) and listens very patiently, with genuine if slightly abstract interest. i mean, you gotta admit, violence does beget violence. wild. anyway, back to work.

Has heard enough stories about Tien and Kaladin that he pretty much thinks of them as his brothers.

When kaladin and him finally meet kal is... mostly cool with that (sure, this might as well happen. can't have too many brothers). but there is significant disagreement over who's oldest.

-

shortly before making it to Urithiru oathgate they run into the listeners. layla and ruush hastily throw up some walls between them while Hesina tries to communicate that she comes in peace. The listeners scramble to get Eshonai to translate.

it takes some time to talk. the translation process with the council of five. mistrust on both sides. lirin gives an impassioned speech about wanting to be free from violence, and some listeners swear they could almost hear the man attuning to the rhythm of hope.

Eshonai gives her plate and blade to Thule before traveling to Urithiru. Venli calls her a fool. The council approves. This might be their one last chance.

Eshonai returns full of enthusiasm. This is it. They could escape. They would still need gems to make the fields grow, but the Neshua Kadal leader women and her mate have been robbing other humans blind while traveling. This could work.

-

Venli presents her own radical idea, storm form, a form of power.

Maybe two thirds of the listeners take the chance on Urithiru.

A third stay on the shattered plains to fight for vengeance to the bitter end.

-

Listeners slightly outnumber human population. People learn quickly that any violence gets randomly duplicated, which Lirin is weirdly smug about. Eshonai spends a lot of time on language lessons.

After sitting down and talking it out, they eventually decide to make a council of ten — 5 humans, 5 listeners. Hesina's lightspren is given the deciding vote if they tie.

They need each other too much to operate separately, even if the place is technically big enough.

Over the course of a month they actually settle into a decent routine. There's some mistrust, but Eshonai manages to explain fairly eloquently why they decided to kill the king, fearing being enslaved by the return of the gods

yeah the humans can get that. we don't really care about the king anyway.

the parshendi were shocked by how brutally and disproportionately the Alethi responded

tell me about it. i once scratched a window and was beaten until i couldn't walk.

Really, things are promising, common ground, willingness to move forward together.

-

Layla draws her own lightspern to much rejoicing, reaching the third oath, so now they can move between the oathgates without worrying about leaving people trapped in Urithiru without Hesina.

Eshenoi swears her own first oath!! even more rejoicing!!! listener and dark eyes going together into the future freely and equally.

if only they could convince Venli's revenge splinter group to join them. of course everyone wants vengeance but... they want to live more. they want to live for more.

the 'stormform' group is going to get themselves killed. and if somehow they don't... fear grows that the songs, the warnings about forms of power — they were for exactly this moment but what are they going to do? attack their own people?

The radiants alternate going out on a few more raids, freeing more slaves. They also bring stolen parchmen now, which they had mostly decided to leave behind in past raids, as they wouldn't really help in their own escapes at all, and everyone felt bad continuing to treat as slaves even if they come with, but they just...stand there. The Listeners are continuously baffled by them.

Some humans think about another few thousand years of their children and their children's children and their children being tenth dahn eternally ... they know humans who are dead behind the eyes and stormfather. If you bred for that...

-

(a storm is coming and things are going to get messy but those who were there will look back on these months and know how important they were. when the lighteyes come and the singers come things will change. but for a moment there was something beautiful and almost pure. and those foundations will matter more than anyone could possibly imagine)

[turbo-tsundere]

do u wanna talk about. gonta <3

give me ur small headcanons about gonta :3 the little details that u imagine about him!

Ah, I'm okay with stewing in my own thoughts, since I know headcanons are very personalized things that others might not be too interested in xD But since you're asking, I'll happily share some. Thank you! <3

I'll try to stick to what I consider pure headcanons - some serious, some unhinged - but I'll mix in some theories/interpretations/speculations or inferred stuff too (to me these are distinct from headcanons, which are made up). Anyway.

Gonta's not wearing shoes, because it's uncomfortable, if not painful for him to use those, and he's not aware orthophedic shoes or foot orthoses are a thing. This is kinda based on my own specific experience (due to my condition I'm advised to walk barefoot or only wear special shoes, anything else, esp flat and soft ones, causes my spine to hurt and affect mobility), but living barefoot influences posture, musculature and gait - and modern shoes *supposedly* can weaken our joints and muscles, or lead to contusion if badly fitted - they affect entire posture, so I imagine finding ones that'd be comfortable long-term would be very difficult for Gonta given how he's fully adapted to live without them.

His hair doesn't make sense to me in-universe. Shouldn't it be cut the moment he was rescued? No specific headcanon here, but I wonder if there's a story behind it. Was Gonta afraid of scissors? Is he simply embracing his wild-child origin? Is this a sensory issue? Or is this some proof of neglect on the side of his parents? Or maybe it's really just unruly like that...

I imagine Gokuhara residence to be built in traditional Japanese style. No reason other than to contrast Sonia's implied European princess castle style and Byakuya's modern corporate background. It's prolly not, given Gonta emulates the british gentleman stereotype, but if I were to include it in a hypothetical fic, I'd explain the contradiction with historic Anglo-Japanese style and mutual cultural fascination between the two countries, and depict his family home interior as mix of both styles.

Gonta's tie is made from golden orb weaver spider silk, and thus extremely expensive!

If Gonta wasn't lost in the forest, I like to imagine entomology would become his childhood hobby, while his actual ultimate would end up being something more, hm... conventionally and imposingly "serious" and "impressive", even if still somewhat adjacent to his initial passion. Perhaps neurobiology? Some type of bio-engineering? Dunno, but... He's incredibly academically smart. He learns so fast. Got lost for 10 years, still caught up to others, and by Hope's Peak rules, he'd have to already be in normal highschool to be able to get enrolled. This guy basically speed-runs 10 years worth of education and social adaptation in what I imagine would be 1-3 years tops. So imagine what could've happened if his education wasn't interrupted. What if he moved on (or was perhaps pressured by his family, bc prestige prestige legacy reputation prestige) to some other, "bigger" things? And what he'd be like, personality wise? Would he be... a bit mean, just like his parents? Or still sweet but broken, just in a different way? Maybe he'd be more outwardly cold and cynical, more indoctrinated into the whole Gokuhara mentality, but secretly unhappy about it... Definitely just as concerned about how others see him as he is now, but with a different undertone to it. I think about "Gonta who never was lost" AU quite a bit... (insert multiverse AU where both versions of Gonta meet each other, and see something they'd wish to achieve or lost in one another.)

Gonta's favourite music genre is heavy metal. No reason for this other than his side-interests are often surprising and it'd be really funny.

[ENG localisation assumption/theory] Gonta's much more eloquent in writing than he is when speaking. Reasons being, that in canon, unless he doesn't know a particular terminology, or misses subtext, he actually doesn't have trouble understanding anything people are trying to say, and even though his speech is broken, it's still packed with meaning and communicates clearly. Plus he wrote a book in DR:S, and said something about making it easy and basic for those who'd like to learn about bugs. Aka his passive vs active vocabulary imo has a gap. That's very common for non-native speakers, and could easily be his case given his situation. Tbh I love thinking about his relationship with language, and I don't begrudge localisation like many people do, even though I always stick to original voice-acting, so JP in this case. Learning or re-learning language isn't a linear process, and there can be a lot of unevenness and fluctuation between reading vs listening vs speaking vs writing, or even understanding vs pronunciation skills. Gonta's language skills seem uneven, too, as his longer sentences tend to be less broken than his short ones (my translator friend had interesting doylist opinion about it to my watsonian one), and imo that's cool show-don't-tell indication he's in process of learning. Oh, and realistically, I think he'd have to learn speech from scratch, like Marcos Rodríguez Pantoja did, which I think is the closest real-world example of Gonta's situation.

Gonta's secretly like Goku or Superman, a member of a super-strong alien race who, when he was an infant, was sent to Earth in a tiny space-pod. But due to his severe self-esteem issues he never realized this about himself. I mean, look at the guy, he even has an aura around him at one point. Also GON-ta and GOKU-hara? That's two shonen references within the big JoJo one.

Alternatively, Gonta is one of Rantaro's missing sisters, except now it's a brother (I can't get over how Rantaro's locks seem like short version of Gonta's hairstyle. Both are green haired rich kids too. Hmmm. Suspicious!)

(tbh I don't seriously subscribe to these two origin headcanons, but I DO find them amusing)

I don't really have settled on anything here, but it always fascinated me that Gonta speaks in third person. Why would he do that at his age, when he wants to be a respectable gentleman? Either way, sometimes I wonder if this isn't a form of distancing himself from... himself. Another expression of how little he values himself. After all, talking in third person, culturally, isn't always to appear cute, but also to show humility, selflessness, or distance from one's own ego. What if in his thoughts, he talks to himself in second person? What if he berates himself the way he was berated by others? To further dissociate, to further de-personalise himself. Not sure. But it does make me think, and I'd be tempted to include that motive somewhere.

Like with shoes, this is just me projecting due to my own conditions and experiences, but what if Gonta needs to wear glasses not because of short- or farsightedness, or for pure fashion, but due to mild binocular vision dysfunction? He does look slightly lazy-eyed in some sprites (left eye). Frankly, it's definitely just drawing imperfection, but hey, it's interesting to speculate about such things.

Gonta's reaction to receiving a sweater during FTE ("It brings bad memory"), his sleeping habits, and particular choice of underwear make me speculate whether he has difficulty wearing clothes. Maybe he even hated them at first. In my mind, there's this scene where he's recently rescued, still unable to speak much - he's forced to wear a sweater and things turn upsetting to both him, and the person who attempted to put it on him. Perhaps his mom? Maybe Gonta panics, thinking he'd be restrained, or hating the sensation of scratchy wool on his skin. Or maybe he was snuck up on. He ends up accidentally hitting, or pushing his parent (likely for him, remember the instances with Shuichi almost falling off stairs in FTE, being accidentally pushed onto bed in LH, or knocked out by being run into in Ch2? OMG AND YEETING POOR KIIBO TOO. Gonta has very consistent pattern of getting physically reckless when emotionally agitated). He feels so, so ashamed and heart-broken, when he realises she just wanted to take care of him in her own way. Things sour, and he ends up being looked down upon as feral or uncivilized. Dunno. But that's my headcanon for what this "bad memory" could be. I'd certainly write a scene like that for him, for that delicious angst.

Likewise, I don't imagine retrieving Gonta from the forest as some peaceful and idyllic reunion. It's hard for me to think it wouldn't feel scary, if not traumatic, depending on who would've found him and what methods they used to capture Gonta… or at least deeply confusing and alienating, even if seeing his parents again would make him happy (but would they provide the care and compassion he'd really need at this vulnerable time?). The forest was his home and the whole world at this point, for pretty much the entirety of his conscious memory. And then he's just brought back, and has to accept this is his life from now on, because everyone else acts like it should be. As human, this is where he belongs, doesn't he? And he just rolls with it. Maybe the wrongness of it doesn't even dawn on him, but the impact is there. Again, thinking about the Pantoja case.

I really love how Gonta makes references to FMA or Layton etc., or talks how he enjoyed spy novels, or comedies, and then goes 'oh, gentlemen should do this, or that!" based on those. To me that's a sign that he's mostly left to his own devices, when it comes to learning about social norms. He's trying to self-teach from where he possibly can, and ends up using insufficient or misguided means, in this case, fiction that he enjoys. It's one of the few sources of knowledge that wouldn't make him feel inadequate, so I wouldn't be surprised if he gravitated towards it. Extremely realistic imo, but also sad, as it might subtly imply parental negligence.

My headcanon/theory for DR:S is that Gonta's life is a bit better in this universe. Maybe his family doesn't treat him as badly or perhaps distance and boarding at Hope's Peak helps. But it stands out to me that he doesn't talk all that much about becoming a gentleman there, mostly about bugs. Barely calls himself stupid, too (I remember only one particular event when he does that).

I think that's more than enough. Thank you again!

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/4/2025

my desktop has Kicked It™️🫠 so this is shorter and worse bc it comes from my ailing phone. the tuesdaypost is generally a multi-tab multi-window affair and i completely forgot about the ten-image limit on mobile

listening

i bought this cd months and months ago to fill out the 8 items for $1 sale at my favorite religious thrift shop with the worst vibes, bc i saw the name and thought “oh i like the guy”. i was in fact thinking of nick cave. i would describe this as crunchier than nick cave. also janglier. my most deeply held american trait is that i am a sucker for a song about a road trip.

-

reading

i struck out with Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe bc it made me desperately, desperately miss my maternal grandmother and we simply don’t have time for extra emotion this week.

bad news from the zone tumbleweeds i hated this one too. this is a fourth (!) 1997 printing of the 1992 novel by Claire McNab, Under the Southern Cross. 180p, it’s the same physical quality as all the other Naiad Press softcovers. i did not look up anything about Claire bc copying and pasting shit on my phone is horrendous: however, the frontispiece notes that she lives in LA “for love” and misses Australia. the draw and strong point of this book are the vivid and immersive descriptions of various tourist points down under by someone who really loves the country. it’s an effective travelogue!

The vast, forbidding Australian Outback… the grandeur of Ayers Rock… legendary Alice Springs… the Great Barrier Reef… the primal beauty of Cape Tribulation…

Two women, from different continents, with different values, collide with spectacular results… UNDER THE SOUTHERN CROSS.

American Lee Paynter has built her small travel agency into an international tour company. Brash, confident, openly lesbian, her great love is her business. Women? They’re to enjoy and let go.

Alexandra Findlay is pursuing a career in Australian tourism with quiet focus and determination, convinced that her career is the best she can hope for in her arid, closeted emotional existence.

Now Alex has been assigned to accompany Lee on the American woman’s visit Down Under, to win Lee’s company over to Australian tourism. Suddenly Alex’s quiet life explodes… And Lee is challenged by a woman unlike any she has ever known.

there were a lot of components i did not enjoy about this book, but the actual construction and hitting what felt like what the next emotional beat in a relationship Should be was there. nobody said anything outlandish and nobody’s crotches were engorged. the first lesbian romance in this project ive read in first person.

i find it extremely funny when someone is in a gorgeous location and having a fucking miserable time. just seething in competitive rage. alex at one point states that her family will never forgive her if she comes out and lee goes “oh? you’re super close with them?” and alex has to go “😠 no 😠”. their relationship is at its best when lee is like “you know you don’t have to live like this?” and kind of mentally drop-kicks alex into enjoying herself. unfortunately these moments are few and far between.

i mostly hated this book bc i hated alex, but it was sort of fun (though not really what i personally read romances for) watching in horrified fascination for 180 pages as she sort of train-wrecked her way through the book. i HATE this kind of sanctimonious unpleasant gay. someone who is extremely pushy about your boundaries (lee doesn’t want anything serious and says so from hour one) but doesn't want to do any work at all on her own boundaries or emotional growth (in only one example, pitches a fucking fit at the airport after lee has been very firm about how she loves to fuck and had a great time with alex but doesn’t want anything serious). this is cutting a little too close to home bc this is nearly all baby (and a lot of grown/post college) western mass queers. i had enough of that in real life and enough roommates like that. i also don't typically enjoy the divorced woman discovering her latent lesbianism storyline. the coming out storyline deserves its own graf.

this book does a good job of portraying alex as believably prickly for her own reasons, and not just out of contrariness or to fit a trope. she was very badly scared by watching her lover get fired and her almost fired at her post divorce job! that makes sense! i wish the arguments for and against coming out that she comes up with for herself rang less true today! however, she doesn’t come out in the book as a big emotional gesture to join lee in scary freedom, she comes out to stop her boss hitting on her and to prevent her coworker from blackmailing her. her coming out is such a significant point of tension and happens with such a fizzle! I think I would be giving the book too much credit to agree and say that sometimes coming out isn't a big deal and is kind of a fizzle, be she is constantly thinking about how her first lover was fired for being a lesbian. it can happen to you!!!

there is a very contrived, unnatural ending that requires lee to betray all her most deeply held relationship beliefs/make a lot of bad decisions and a deus ex concussion for alex. not that i expect every book to be a Victorian morality fable, but i didn’t want her to have a happy ending that felt so unearned. I didn’t want her to be rewarded for being such a pushy bitch while doing zero work on herself!

at least the sex scenes were some of the less awful ones ive read in this project

-

watching

HOUSTON MENTIONED

-

playing

look at my beautiful little bitches

-

making

i am a firm believer that anything worth knitting is worth knitting well and as heirloom quality as you can make it, bc it takes the same amount of time to knit something in garbage single ply that will fall apart in one wash as it does to knit something in yarn that’s actually good. however, sometimes you need to produce an acrylic baby blanket bc a baby’s one job (as i have previously stated in this series) is to produce fluids and crumbs, and you love their parents and want to make their lives easier without adding a wool blanket to the mix.

this baby blanket is completed, only two years late. i did not measure this or even really unscrumple it before throwing it directly in the warsh. nineteen repeats across and twelve up of the tumbling blocks baby blanket, applied icord edging on the short edges which took six! total! hours! to apply. i think this yarn is bernat softee in mint? some sort of oil byproduct. phil is on my lap i cant find the band to check. i got very tired of this one and its 200 stitches across and am glad to see it out the door and to the tender graces of the toddler recipient. next on the docket is some socks for a grown person. i hope i still remember how to make socks.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Valentine's Day

Hi guys!

I got a lot of ask for a Luna one for the Valentine's Day, so here it is :) You can find the request here, here and here too.

I don't like it to be honest but enjoy it anyway!

And Happy Valentine's Day ♥

______________________________________________________________

Seated on the gigantic sofa in Lucy’s apartment, Narla and Coco look skeptically at the English girl making quick round trips in her apartment, her phone glued to her ear. Lucy returned a few minutes ago and she knows she has very little time before Ona arrives in her turn. She left her behind after the training, making sure Alexia could take her home before she ran off to her apartment. Which finally became their apartment since Ona lives almost here and most of her stuff is there.

Lucy doesn’t know who is the fool who decided to fix their match on Valentine’s Day. Last year they couldn’t celebrate because they were both in a different country and Lucy was really hoping to get it right this year. Except that’s clearly not the case. She decided to surprise Ona today and she hopes that the young woman will not blame her for abandoning her while she was making interview for Barça Femeni's Instagram.

The two dogs jump when a crash comes from the bedroom and the noise is followed by a few curses released by Lucy. If Narla sighs and goes back to sleep, Coco remains seated, wagging her tail.

A few minutes later, Ona finally arrives and Coco rushes to meet her, her paws sliding on the floor.

"Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze, where the hell are you?"

Despite the fact that Ona takes the time to caress Coco then Narla to say hello to them, her face suggests a great form of discontent. But when Lucy reappears in the living room, it's to steal a kiss from Ona and run away from the apartment while embarking on her jacket, almost dropping the coat rack with her.

"I’ll be back in a moment!"

Ona has just enough time to turn around to see the tip of Lucy’s blonde hair disappear through the front door before she close it a little too strong, certainly to the annoyance of their neighbors.

When Lucy is back in her apartment an hour later, she has to face a sulky Ona with wet hair. The Catalan woman doesn't react to Lucy's arrival, busy reading one of her criminal investigation magazines that fascinates her strangely since her adolescence.

"I’m back" Lucy sings as she leans over Ona to kiss her, but the latter subtly turns her head so that the lips of the English woman land on her cheek.

Lucy isn't surprised, she obviously expected the youngest to resent her for her unpredictable behavior. But the fact that she hasn't left home is already a good thing in the opinion of the English, who sits next to Ona and lays several kisses in a row on her cheek.

"Baby don’t be mad" say Lucy between two kisses.

But Ona answers nothing again, staring at the pages in front of her. She's no longer reading, she has never really managed to focus on the slightest sentence since Lucy left. She tried to call it one time without success, before deciding that she was tired of her girlfriend’s business.

"Ona" whispers Lucy before biting the corner of her jaw.

"Don’t" say Ona while moving on the couch, annoyed to feel her body react so quickly when she's supposed to be annoyed with her.

But it was without counting the tenacity of Lucy who seizes a hand of Ona to make her turn in her direction. With the other, she managed to take the magazine from her hands and keep it away from Ona.

"You’re so annoying" Ona grumbles as she tries to get her magazine back.

But in vain, of course. Lucy is several centimeters taller and it's easy for the English to prevent Ona from taking it back. Not to mention the big amused smile that appears on Lucy’s face when seeing her girlfriend trying.

"Come on, stop pouting and come with me. I have a surprise for you"

Ona hesitates some seconds, looking at her girlfriend with a sly pouth always on her face. But the big puppy eyes from Lucy are to convincing for her to resist.

"You're lucky your cute, Bronze" Ona grumble while standing up.

With a big smile, Lucy take her hand and drag her with her towards the front door, without adding anything.

"Where are we going?" Ona asks, frowning

"I told you, it’s a surprise" Lucy smiles.

Without adding anything, Ona lets herself be dragged to their underground parking lot and the English woman's car. Ona can’t suppress her smile when Lucy opens the door to her, unable to stay angry with her for too long. Especially when she puts a kiss on her cheek before closing the door and when she grabs her hand when the car is out of the parking.

A comfortable silence settles in the car, Lucy smiling when she sees Ona looking at her by the corner of her eyes.

"What?" smiled the English.

"You left me all alone in training, without a car"

Ona bows an eyebrow and Lucy can’t help but laugh gently, briefly squeezing Ona's fingers.

"I made sure Alexia could take you home, I wouldn’t leave you at the mercy of anyone. Gotta protect my princess"

"Mh" simply answers Ona, smiling again when Lucy kisses her fingers.

The journey takes about twenty minutes, before Lucy stops her car in front of a hotel. Despite her insistence, Ona receives no answer to her questions and finds herself following Lucy into the lobby of an hotel and into an elevator. Arriving inside, Lucy slips a card and the elevator starts to rise.

Ona finally gets the answer to her questions when the elevator doors open, offering them a breathtaking view of a rooftop that Lucy has privatized. When the Catalan finally learns what Lucy was up to, she is speechless.

"Lucy, I’m in a jogging suit and in a hoodie"

"I don’t care, what I want is to spend an evening with you" Lucy says shrugging. "We can’t do it on the real Valentine’s Day, so I thought today was better than nothing. I really wanted to have a special night together, it's our first Valentine's Day in the same country. I wanted it to be special"

"It’s perfect" mumble sincerely Ona, her eyes a little wet.

She lets her eyes running around her, looking at everything she can. There is a swimming pool in the middle of the roof, surrounded by sun loungers. The view of Barcelona and, a little further, the Mediterranean Sea is breathtaking. Some typical Valentine’s Day decorations based on heart-shaped confetti, balloons and rose petals have been added and Ona can only smile when noting that the bear that Lucy won her in London last winter is also here.

"Happy Valentine’s Day" says Lucy tenderly by passing her arms around Ona’s waist, her front glued to the back of the smallest.

"Thank you" smiled Ona, placing her hands on Lucy’s arms. "Happy Valentine’s Day to you too"

"Are you still angry?"

"No" smiled Ona as she turned to put a kiss on Lucy’s cheek. "You want to know a secret?"

"Sure?"

"I’m not sure I can stay mad at you for more than 15 minutes"

"I really like this idea" smiled Lucy

Ona always smiles when she turns in Lucy’s arms, passing her arms around the neck of her girlfriend.

"Don’t take advantage of it"

"Never" assures Lucy before putting her lips on Ona’s.

[unhetalia]

I think what's fascinating about Arthur and Alfred is that the concept of immortality plays a huge part in the relationship between them in a way that it doesn't for other Hetalia ships.

In a way, this adds to the idea that Nations are 'other', and this is actually what's made them a less popular ship in fandom over time. People are uncomfortable with the fact that they met when Alfred was a child and Arthur was an adult. They're uncomfortable with the fact that there was a time where Arthur could be considered Alfred's caretaker.

If these two characters weren't immortal, there would be very little room for their relationship to grow beyond that of an adult and child, caretaker and charge. BECAUSE they're immortal, however, it's not only possible BUT we get to actually see it, which is rarer than you'd think in Hetalia.

Even though we as fans understand that history and time can change the relationship between two nations, we actually rarely see this in action. For example, Francis and Arthur have always been portrayed as rivals, and the intensity of that rivalry has stayed pretty consistent in canon despite the difference in their two countries' relationship. We know that Kiku and Alfred must have have had some difficulties between that first meeting and them being best friends in modern times, but we don't really see that either.

Arthur and Alfred's relationship, however, gets a really gorgeous, seriously written nod to the breakdown of the caretaker and charge relationship AND we also get to see them-as-equals in the present. When Himaruya used to do more ship tease, we even got to see it leading to a will-they-won't-they kind of thing.

So, it's really fascinating because it's a relationship where you can see that passage of time for them as Nations. I also think it allows for me to explore something that I don't believe in when it comes to real relationships - the idea that 'love is enough'.

This one can apply to everyone in Hetalia, but is particularly juicy with the canon we see for Arthur and Alfred. In real life, I stand by the adage that love is not enough. Love does not equal compatibility, it does not equal solving your relationship problems and love is not worth sacrificing yourself for. Basically - you need more than love to make a relationship work.

If Arthur and Alfred were mortal, they wouldn't have enough time to sort out all their issues in order to make a relationship work. That's my true opinion. A lot of accepting and moving on needs to happen. If they were mortal, I'd say ... just leave it. Experience the world! Find a love less intense but more healthy.

BUT THEY'RE NOT MORTAL. They're gonna get to a point where they've experienced as much world as they can, and the less intense but healthier love will literally die, and then who is left but each other, and every other immortal they have issues with? THIS is when love can be enough. This is when you can work on all the things that aren't worth working towards as a mortal. Eventually, we have a forever-young less toxic yaoi of my dreams.

And that is fucking amazing.