#extra info from op>>>>

[dms-saggicorn]

Really cool idea here

Concept: Yandere with no soulmate

Name: Kanemoto Haruto

Age: 20

Height: 5'7

Occupation: student, part timer

Hobbies: Cat cradles (like shockingly good) , hand stitching, scrapbooking, instrument playing

In japanese culture red strings of fate are said to connect those meant to meet each other. While these are mostly metaphorical, Haruto was born with the strange ability to both see and interact with these threads.

Unfortunately this means he's acutely aware of the fact he has no red string of his own, none tied to his own pinky fingers. This paired with a lack of parental affection has left him quite apathetic and desperate for human connection. So in his most selfish times, he will cut someone's string, perhaps out of jealousy or spite, disconnecting possible soulmates. Or retying them to others. Or even attaching people to himself out of greediness for his own connection. However, those cut strings have to be re attached with knots, which unlike the original connection can come undone. Because of this, most of his artificial connections tend to naturally fall away, leaving him alone again. Sometimes it will slip off his fingers and he'l lose that string, unknownst to what happened to that person. He's tried taping them, but no matter what he does he can't keep a single one.

[cinnamnt]

tbh i think the addition of sanji's second apollo justice-esque backstory was entirely unnecessary bc i don't think he really needed More Context as a character but i will always appreciate the level of depth it adds to him

[fluentmoviequoter]

Arrest Me, But Make it Sexy

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly! Part 2 Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: Tim recruits you to aid in a Metro op. When you ignore his direct orders, you dare him to arrest you, but you have a request.

Warnings: this is pure fluff and banter!! the song reference part is a teeny bit suggestive I guess, but it's completely clean/sfw as always!

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

cop cuties, cute and on duty. navy blue booties, go ahead and lock me up. arrest me, but make it sexy.

You’ve been a patrol cop since you completed your rookie training with Tim Bradford. Throughout the last few years of working alone, you’ve trusted him enough to ask for advice, offer to work for him and reach out when he was injured. Most cops don’t stay close to their TO, but Tim was always more than that. Somehow, against his will, you think, you and Tim became friends. He knew from the beginning of your training that you were going to be a great cop, which is why he decided to recruit you for a new job.

“Officer,” Tim greets as you walk into Wade’s office.

“Sergeant,” you reply. “I take it I’m here to see you and not be yelled at by Grey.”

“Why do you need to be yelled at?” Tim asks, raising his brows as he crosses his arms.

“Absolutely nothing, sir.”

“Sure. Metro is working a forgery operation, and we need an extra set of hands. I think you’re the right cop for this job.”

“You do?” you ask, suspicious of why he chose you over the hundreds of other choices.

“Yes. But you get to decide. Do you want to join the team and complete your first Metro op?”

“Yes, sir,” you agree. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

“You still have to prove that I’m right,” Tim reminds you. “Gear up, we’re leaving in ten.”

You nod before you exit the office. Working with Tim is something that you’re used to, but not in a Metro team.

“Get to the corner,” Tim orders.

You stay in place, watching the forger. He’s in plain view, waiting for something and checking his watch every minute or so. That makes him dangerous and reckless. The overview that Tim gave you and the Metro squad at the station didn’t place the suspect outside of his studio.

“Corner, now,” Tim repeats.

“He’s outside,” you radio.

“And you’re not in position.”

You huff and move your hand off of your radio. There’s no chance of catching this guy if you move from your current position. Tim is still going off the original, incorrect intel. Not to mention, moving could spook him and ruin this operation.

Tim says your last name over the radio, and you wait for him to continue. “Get in position.”

“There’s no point,” you argue.

Tim radios for someone else to cover his position as he moves toward you. His approach is nearly silent, but as he squats beside you, you don’t look over at him.

“You have to follow my orders out here,” he reprimands quietly.

“Even if they’re stupid orders?” you reply without looking away from the suspect.

“That’s not your call. This isn’t rookie training where you get input because you’re learning. You do what I say or you’re off my team.”

“I understand that.”

“Then get in your position at the corner,” he orders again.

You don’t listen but remain quiet rather than argue with him again. Tim sighs beside you and clenches his jaw.

“Do you remember where you’re supposed to be?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

“Then get into that position and be ready for the next phase of this op.”

“No, Sergeant Bradford.”

Tim looks at the side of your face. He’s had enough of you acting like a partner who can argue with him. As much as he trusts you, you’re still his subordinate and this is unacceptable, especially in the middle of a Metro operation. Leading Metro is the most rewarding yet challenging position he has had as a cop, and he won’t let you compromise his position or the trust his team has in him.

“You know I can still make arrests, right?” Tim asks harshly.

You raise your brows and turn toward him to snap, “So, what; are you gonna arrest me? For what?”

“For disobeying direct orders! I can arrest you now and put you on desk duty and break room fridge refills for the rest of the month.”

You look back at the suspect before you stand. Tim follows your movement, and you lean toward him to push your finger against his chest.

As you crowd him, you dare, “Arrest me, Officer Bradford. But make it sexy.”

Tim looks between your eyes before he grabs your right shoulder. He spins you quickly and pushes you against the cinder block wall behind you. He wraps one hand around both of your wrists behind your back as his other hand rests against your hip, just above your holster.

“You want to say that again?” Tim asks.

“Not that I expect you to know what a real Degas looks like, Officer,” you taunt loudly, “but the gallery you just destroyed is worth more than your life!”

“What are you doing?” Tim whispers in your ear.

“Go with it,” you request.

“Excuse me!” the suspect calls as he approaches you and Tim. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m an art connoisseur, of sorts. What seems to be the problem?”

Tim pulls his handcuffs from his belt and puts them loosely around your wrists. He pulls you away from the wall and against his side as he turns to face the art forger.

“This woman is an art forger,” Tim answers. “So, unless you purchased a Degas painting from her, there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“I fear that’s impossible,” the man replies. “Degas is nearly impossible to forge. The paint age and brush strokes are dead giveaways.”

“Spoken like a true enjoyer,” you say.

“Shut up,” Tim demands. “Sir, if you’d like to have your art checked by our experts, I’d be happy to make that call for you.”

You nod, a small movement you hope will make the man trust you. The art experts know his signature, so if they can get a look at his work, Tim’s work will be done, and another forger will be behind bars. The crime itself seems too white-collar for Tim’s skills, but a successful arrest is a successful arrest.

“I would appreciate that, Officer,” the man answers. “I can give you access to my collection now.”

Tim radios for the art experts waiting nearby to come in. He keeps a hand around your wrist, his pinky occasionally brushing between your skin and the metal cuff. After the experts enter the warehouse, it only takes two minutes before they radio to Tim that they have the evidence they need.

“You’re in luck, sir,” Tim tells the suspect. “Looks like the only forgeries in there are yours.”

Tim moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls your handcuffs from your belt.

“You’re under arrest for art forgery, possession of stolen goods, and unlawful sale of property,” Tim says as he secures your handcuffs onto the suspect.

Another Metro officer rushes past you and takes the man from Tim to lead him to a waiting patrol car. Tim turns to face you and pulls a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket before he puts them on.

“You’re welcome,” you tell him.

“There are better ways to tell your superior officer that a different approach may be better,” he responds, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ignoring orders isn’t it.”

“You weren’t listening!”

“I listened at the end. You did well, but don’t ever do that again.”

You smile and step forward until you nearly hit Tim’s folded arms. “Scared I’ll take your job?”

“You are stubborn, uncompromising, and have no respect for authority,” Tim lists. “My position is safe from you.”

You tilt your head to the side and shrug. Tim radios a code 4, then walks away.

“Are you going to take these cuffs off?” you call after him.

Tim turns and stops a step away from you.

“You’re the one that wanted to be arrested,” he replies. He shrugs and asks, “Was that sexy enough?”

“I mean, yeah, it worked,” you answer. “But defying your orders got you the arrest, so…”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Tim begins.

He continues reciting your Miranda rights as he leads you to his car. His hand trails down your right arm as he puts you in the backseat. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, you realize that the handcuff on your right wrist is loose enough you can get your hand through.

“Defying direct orders is wrong,” you muse. “What if I start a verbal flirtation while you take me to your station?”

“I will arrest you,” Tim threatens.

“With what cuffs?” you ask, spinning his on your finger. “You gave yours away and took mine.”

Tim shakes his head and pulls over. He opens the back door, and you hand him his handcuffs as you climb out.

“If I had to get arrested, I’m glad it was with you,” you say before you round the back of the car to get in the passenger seat.

“I was considering mentioning you for a Metro promotion,” Tim begins as he drives back onto the road. “But after that stunt today…”

“You’ll never see me the same?” you guess.

Tim looks over at you, though you can’t see his eyes past his aviators.

“Something like that,” he murmurs.

“You liked it,” you accuse playfully. “Admit it.”

Tim adjusts his sunglasses and says, “Maybe.”

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to The Worst's Chapter 394

Brief summary: Cale talks to GoD. Cale receives his rewards for completing the subquest. Cale feels ominous at what Clopeh had done.

==========

I couldn't help but laugh at and feel sorry for GoD at the same time. 😂😂😂

Cale: Are you busy? GoD: Very busy. Cale: How's the GoC these days? GoD: …What did you do? Cale: Haven't you heard from CJS? GoD: They don't tell me anything anymore. Shameless bastards. Don't they even know that they're living so freely because of me? Cale: Okay, I'll send those two to Earth 3 while we're in the game. Also, I'll briefly explained what happened, so listen carefully. GoD: Oh yes! I'm looking forward to it! Cale: Ha. It's not something that will have a big impact on your side of the god realm. But I thought it would be good for you to know. It's nothing much, but just know. Cale: *tells the chaos he did* Alberu and Rosalyn: (Nothing much?) *looks in disbelief* Cale: …And that's what happened. GoD's mirror: *vibrates intensely* GoD: T-T-This crazy bastard! Y-You are really the best! Hahahahaha! I was a genius for choosing you! Hahahahaha! Cale: Are you crazy? *contemplates on breaking the mirror* GoD: Ahem. Cale: Anyway, since I've set up the board, the gods should fight each other according to that. GoD: Ah. Even without that, there's currently a standoff without any progress. There are gods who are increasingly siding with GoC. Because of that, GoB is going crazy and running wild. Also, there is also talk of her stepping down from the position of representative because GoB is not doing her job properly. In addition, since the title of ancient god is not very useful, there's talk of creating a system by appointing new leader-level gods other than the ancient gods throughout the god realm. Btw, I'm one of them- Cale: Stop. The affairs of the god realm are none of my business. I only care about the hunters and the absolute gods. The rest is up to you, the god and demon realms. GoD: You really think so? Cale: What? GoD: Heh. Cale: *feels annoyed and turns off the screen* GoD: Sorry, I won't tease you! Tell me more!

GoD seems to know that every time Cale denies involvement with the gods, he continues to set up flags in becoming involved with them. 😂😂😂

That lore drop about ancient gods though. I thought "ancient god" was just some adjective to call the old gods, but it was actually a title and had some significance. The appointment of new leader-level gods was also a surprise, and the fact that our GoD was included as a candidate... 🤣🤣🤣

After a few months, CJS and Sui were mentioned again. Cale planned to leave the Earth 3 matters to them while he plays the game. And King Zed was mentioned too!

Apparently, when a person was nearing their death, their name would appear on GoD's Death List six months before their death. Included were also details related to their death, such as the time and location of death.

However, Zed's place of death kept changing, so GoD couldn't tell much to Cale. There was also restrictions around it, so GoD said he would have to prepare for it before he could tell Cale the info.

Moving on, Cale got to talk to the System AI upon completing the subquest. He achieved his quest so splendidly that the system rated it as SSS+. He got a potion that he needed to pour on Count Lupe's forehead to restore Lupe's memories.

The System AI was so happy that Cale hit the Transparent Bloods, the Demon Realm, and the God of Chaos all at the same time. So the extra reward Cale got for achieving SSS+ in his quest was just too OP!

Red Hand (Rank: God) -When using the skill, you can make a "judgement" through a "trial with the System" and activate "Red Hand" when you are "permitted". -If you understand that the absolute god of the New World already exists, it will be easier to receive "permission" in the "judgement".

Red Hand was the game's response to game errors, and if you recall, it once tried to kill Cale when he first entered the game. But now, Cale had it as a skill? Since the "absolute god" of New World was the System AI, and it was that very System AI who gave the Red Hand skill to Cale, it meant that Cale could freely get "permission" in using the skill. Cale is becoming god-like even inside the game! 😂😂😂

As Cale smiled, another quest window popped into view. And he froze. [Recovery Rate 99.31% (Time remaining: 23:19)] [Nativity Progress 159%] [Reward Tier Undetermined] “Huh?” Why is the nativity progress over 100%? How is that possible? “Damn.” Clopeh Sekka, what the hell did you do? Cale's heart raced. It was the moment he realized something was coming that he couldn't handle.

It's here! Cale's reaction to Clopeh Sekka's actions! 🤣🤣🤣 Yeah, what the heck did Clopeh do that the birth/nativity progress surpassed 100%? 😂😂😂

Ending Remarks So much happened today. Next chapter would be our poor Cale learning what Clopeh had done (and learning about Sheritt's "betrayal"). 😂 We would probably hear about what happened to Count Lupe too once he wakes up. So Eden's birth should be next week?

[dms-saggicorn]

Stop thr violence

hostile work environment

[anistarrose]

I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, then there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

[balrogballs]

I came across that silm nobel prize argument you mentioned in yr tag. I’m not asking about the ship war stuff, I know you don’t do ship stuff but only if you don’t mind, I was interested in hearing yr thoughts on the accessibility stuff they were talking abt, like what makes a fanfic acessible. I was thinking of your post on making your AU acessible for a fanfic reader, and it made me think that the nobel prize OP was using the word inacessible in a wrong way?

I assume this refers to that ‘Silm writers are inaccessible & elitist compared to TROP writers, nobody wants to write an essay about the fanfic they read, flower shop AUs have more ‘real human emotion’ than thematically dense fic, it’s AO3 not the Nobel Prize longlist’ nonsense unless there’s another one floating about in which case jesus fucking christ lol

It’s an interesting one lol… I don’t follow the page or post about the show so I didn’t see it, but a bunch of people have DMed it to me across the last couple weeks, since while the OP was speaking in general or collective terms, I tick a few of their shitlist boxes in a rather obvious way lol. I’ve said variations of this across said DMs and other writers may have a different opinion but essentially:

I personally don’t treat ‘accessibility’ as a concern when it comes to fanfic, unless we’re talking disability accommodations like alt-text or not using emojis, or tagging for triggers. ‘Must be enjoyable for people who like a certain style of writing’ is not an accessibility requirement, it’s your Goodreads wishlist. I do not care about what you want Santa to bring you. Perhaps it’s because I’ve not been in fandom long enough but I genuinely cannot think of a response aside from ‘get a fucking grip lol’.

And re your question about my AU, what I meant there by adapting the story for a fanfic audience was that I toploaded it with regional context and diaspora eyes before getting into the actual narrative in a way I wouldn’t have done if (god forbid) I wrote it as a novel. That isn’t a comment on style or theme, it’s literally just because I’d expect that someone walking into a bookshop, picking up, and paying for a book about a Marxist madhouse in North Kerala full of intertextual elements so thinly veiled as to be practically wrapped in clingfilm, would be at least vaguely familiar with the genre and context.

This is something I would not assume of people scrolling through AO3, because there’s no reason to expect that, hence providing extra info, being conscious as to what I can’t presume people already know, putting some extra elbow grease into “world building”, translating within the text itself, answering questions about regional/historical context etc… it’s not an accessibility measure, I’d say it’s closer to providing an appendix/glossary.

I don’t know, like imo it’s kind of ridiculous to sit around shitting on people for writing narratives more complex than what you personally like, but that’s your space, preference and prerogative… go ham and shit away, it is your toilet, not mine.

My irritation is mostly with the language of “accessibility” and “elitism” and trying to make it sound like a societal ill by using such buzzwords. Yes, there may well be elitism or lorebros or whatever in a general fandom sense, but I don’t know what fanfic has to do with that.

The Silmarillion probably does have a higher concentration of whatever they mean by Nobel Prize fics but that’s not exactly due to some oppressive feudal fandom hierarchy, it’s literally just because the fanbase skews older and the source text is conducive to a certain style of literary writing being relatively popular… it’s not some big injustice, it’s pretty normal, generally speaking, for fanworks to reflect the style and tone of the source text regardless of how transformative they are, simply because the one thing most people in any given fandom share is their enjoyment of said source text.

I like to think of myself as being well read but there are tons of books ‘inaccessible’ to me beyond reading preferences. When I was at university I worked on regional literature but I always specified Malayalam rather than ‘South India’ even though the college used the latter as a tag, because I can’t read Tamil or Kannada etc—that doesn’t mean those languages are inaccessible languages. One’s experience as an individual is not a benchmark for something already as subjective as accessibility. I’m not exactly going to call the Dance Mums fanbase elitist gatekeepers for writing fanfiction just because I’ve never seen an episode of the show.

Also not to be an insufferable pedant but like… if someone wants to use ‘publishable standard’ as a negative term, they should probably look up what it means. Publishable standard just means that a work is fit for publication, it’s not meant to be a comment on genre, style or content. The Cat in the Hat is of publishable quality but that doesn’t mean Dr. Seuss should win the Booker.

Finally, I know the OP was speaking in general and refers to a ‘group’ of writers but speaking for myself, l’m sorry I simply cannot see how on earth a style of writing can make someone elitist: I don’t deny I’ve spent years with the academic silver spoon up my ass, I have openly acknowledged it on multiple occasions both joking and otherwise, and also do not deny that comes across in the way I write.

However, my blog is 80% pure shitposting. My AO3 page isn’t required reading. You do not have to enjoy my writing style in order to interact with me, you are allowed to find it insufferable because it often is insufferable. Hell, you can even tell me you hate it, preferences are subjective. There is no gatekeeping here. Nobody is holding quiz nights about 1970s India and beating people if they get a question wrong.

TLDR: yes, yes, fanfiction doesn’t have to be of a publishable standard because it’s people writing for fun yes, yes, elitism is bad, yes, yes, but that doesn’t mean ‘not writing a flowershop AU’ is some kind of systemic oppression against the AO3 proletariat lol.

Hope this went some way to answer your question!

[iraprince]

i have been trying to get better abt uploading stuff w alt text lately and alt text is interesting bc at first i used to shy away from the idea of like...putting in any info that a viewer couldn't objectively glean from looking at it, in terms of like, "the experience of reading/hearing the alt text should be as accurate to the experience of looking at the image as possible"?

but then i realized like. when the setup is such that anyone can see the alt text (like on here + bluesky) that doesn't make the amount of info different for different ppl -- everyone can see it! it's just a net increase of info even if u do add non-apparent/"extra" tidbits

it also just feels more natural to write even stuff just like. calling my ocs by name (and writing alt text in first person!) vs i always felt a little weird + stilted going "the... OP's sylvari commander oc...." about my own stuff LIKE I'M OP + I KNOW THAT GUY. [POINTING WITH POPCORN] THATS GLYNDWR

basically shaking off my instinct to be really rigid and clinical with alt text has been really helpful. i'm very happy that bsky has helped me get better at remembering to add it + that repetition has made writing it in the first place easier!! it's nice!!

[dms-saggicorn]

Woof this is great

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 13.5k ➠ warnings: scenes of a child crying if you don’t want to read that (nightmares and stuff), also people are called mommy/daddy in this so if you can’t be normal abt that please skip this one ➠ genre: fluff, angst? but like around them in terms of life not within their relationship, established relationship, parents sungchan/reader, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), part of the buzzer beater series (after freezing the puck, or if you’ve only read buzzer beater & 27jsc, this should still make sense!) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i can’t believe we’re finally done omg. i miss them so much already 🤧 thank you so much to everybody who has followed along with this series! i wasn’t expecting this to be a whole series, nor for so many people to like this fic that i started when i was feeling super frustrated with my migraines. it was definitely something that was super personal and specific to me that i was blown away by how many of y’all liked it and told me you related. so thank you, again!! ➠ series masterlist

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Binnie, are you ready to go see Daddy?” You asked your son excitedly as you unbuckled his seatbelt, helping him out of the backseat and onto the parking lot pavement.

“Yeah!” He yelled out, the small sound echoing impressively in the open area. The five-year-old ran ecstatic circles around you as you walked calmly towards the university’s ice rink. “Mommy, am I skating with Daddy today?”

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him nicely after he’s done working,” you informed Woobin as he skidded to a half-skip half-walk next to you, grabbing your gloved hand with his.

Walking into the hockey rink that you knew like the back of your own hand at this point, you saw the Raptors still practicing, and guided your son into the bleachers so you two could watch. Woobin climbed up on the seat next to you, standing on it so he could actually see, and you offered a hand for him to keep himself balanced. He used it until he felt stable, then pushed it away insistently. A few of the players waved at you two, and you both waved back, your son as enthusiastic as ever when he got noticed, waving practically with his entire little body.

Sungchan was on the ice, directing two players with his back to you, and as he skated backward away from them for them to line up and continue practicing, he happened to glance over his shoulder and in your direction. You raised a casual hand in greeting, and he waved back. Woobin sent him a zealous, flying kiss with his whole arm, and Sungchan visibly laughed and immediately went to do it back. After the two players that he’d been instructing had presumably corrected the issue, your husband gave them both pats on the shoulder before skating over your way.

Woobin screamed out a “Hi Daddy!” so loud you were sure the entire campus could hear him, and every head on the ice turned around to look. You burst into laughter, rubbing his back fondly at his enthusiasm, and Sungchan covered his face as he chortled as well.

A few minutes later and Coach called practice, the players slowly starting to filter off the ice and into the locker room. You guided Woobin down through the bleachers towards the gate, where Sungchan was waiting for the two of you.

Your husband had already opened the gate to the ice, standing on the flooring just off it, where you and your son were walking. Woobin flung himself at his legs at full-speed, and Sungchan easily picked him up, beaming as he kissed his forehead.

“Hey, buddy!” Sungchan grinned, readjusting your son’s beanie.

“Hi, Daddy!” He chirped back, bouncing in his arms.

“Hi, hon,” he kissed your cheek, and you gave his a quick peck in greeting as well.

“Hey, Channie.” You slipped your arm around his back in a one-armed hug. “Little dude wants to ask you something.”

“Oh really?” Sungchan focused his inquisitive eyebrow raise at your son.

“Can I skate with you? Please? Pretty please? Pretty pretty please?” Woobin immediately put on his best pout and puppy dog eyes, a display that always made you wonder how he wasn’t genetically Sungchan’s. The two of you had agreed some time ago that with your chronic migraines having a genetic component, you didn’t want to risk passing it down, and had looked into fostering initially. Woobin was your first placement at just a few days old, and he never left, the adoption going through right before his second birthday.

“Mr. Coach ended practice early, so we do have a few minutes,” your husband qualified his acquiescence.

“Yay!”

“You joining us, hon?”

“Sure.”

After fetching yours and your son’s skates from his office, Sungchan helped Woobin put his on, then double checked yours as always. Having married a former collegiate hockey player turned collegiate hockey coach, you’d gotten proficient enough at lacing up your own skates, but he wanted be sure every time that you weren’t going to twist your ankle, or have them come untied, or something else unfortunate.

Coach was still on the ice with the current goalie and center on one end, so you and your family kept to the other side. Woobin squealed and yipped with delight as Sungchan half-carried and half-pulled him around on the ice, you trailing behind with a fond smile on your lips as you watched on.

“Mr. Coach!” Woobin suddenly called to the other end of the rink.

“Oh, Binnie, Mr. Coach is working right now,” Sungchan tried to divert him. “We should leave him alone for now, buddy.”

“What was that, champ?” Coach’s gruff voice responded, the older man starting in your direction.

Woobin was absolutely thrilled to have his attention now, trying to pull Sungchan that way. “Mr. Coach! Mr. Coach!”

“I’m right here, kiddo,” he smoothly stopped right in front of your son. “I’m old but I’m not deaf yet. What do you want to tell me?”

“Mommy signed me up for my own hockey team today!” Woobin told him proudly. “Are you gonna be my coach too?”

“I don’t coach every hockey team in the world, you know.”

Woobin looked down at his skates dejectedly, as if he hadn’t considered this possibility before now.

“But… I did let your dad talk me into being his assistant coach for a certain little league team this season. Was that yours?” Coach asked teasingly, making the boy let out a loud gasp of realization.

“Was it, Daddy? Was it?” He looked up at your husband with wide eyes.

“Maybe…” Sungchan replied with a sly grin.

Woobin rounded on you, buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear that, Mommy? Mr. Coach is gonna be my coach!”

“I heard, buddy. Just like he was your Daddy’s coach,” you chuckled. Looking up at the older man, you added, “How does that make you feel, Coach? Teaching multiple generations?”

“Like my back is going to give out any day now,” he groaned and grabbed his lumbar. “Don’t remind me, Y/N, please.”

You laughed, making a motion of zipping up your lips and throwing away the key.

“Anyway, let me finish up with these two,” he gestured to the two Raptors still milling about on the other end of the ice. “Are you locking up, Jung?”

“Not today, got some errands to run before buddy’s naptime,” Sungchan explained.

“I’m five, I don’t need a nap anymore!” Woobin insisted.

“Hey, champ, look at me,” Coach requested, and waited until he had his attention before continuing. “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, grabbing Sungchan’s arm for support as he at least had the decency to cover his mouth to hide his chuckles.

Coach nodded, not breaking eye contact with your son. “Exactly. I’m like a hundred, and I still take naps.”

“Really?”

“Really. You need them to make sure your brain—” he poked the boy’s forehead “—and your body—” he poked his belly, making him giggle “—are at their best. Especially a growing kid like you.”

“So why do you need them? If you’re not a kid anymore?”

“I’m saying you need them extra because you’re a kid. Grown-ups need them sometimes too.”

He pouted thoughtfully for a moment, then pointed up at you. “Mommy takes naps when she has a migraine. That’s when her head hurts really, really bad.”

“There you go. Told you they weren’t just for kids.” Coach stood up straight, cracking his back with a satisfied groan. “I’ll see you all later, okay?”

“Bye, Mr. Coach!” Woobin waved enthusiastically.

“See you Monday, Coach,” Sungchan nodded to him.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, and he shot you a wink over his shoulder before skating back over to his players, his voice immediately souring as he started barking out orders again.

With the excitement of his upcoming little league team on his mind, your son insisted on having Sungchan show him moves and maneuvers today. You were of course the default practice dummy both for Sungchan to demonstrate, and your son to practice. Which only worked so well since none of you had sticks or a puck or gear of any kind except for your skates, but Woobin was having fun, so you were happy.

Coach eventually finished with the guys at the other end, and as you saw him start off the ice first, you called out to him, “Done for the day, Coach?”

He turned back to you. “I wish! Got some paperwork to finish up in the office! If somebody’s bleeding—call 911, not me!”

You laughed, giving him a final wave as he headed off. About to turn to your family to suggest that you leave to do your errands as well, you spotted the two Raptors players still loitering by the goal, no longer practicing, and yet still not rushing to leave.

“You boys need something?” You asked them knowingly.

“Well, if it’s alright with you, Professor…” the goalie, who had been in your Intro to Literary Theory and Criticism class last spring, began.

“We were wondering if we could see if we could skate with the MVP too?” The center finished hopefully.

“Just for a little! We heard you telling Coach you guys had errands to run before his naptime!” His friend rushed to add.

Woobin’s focus had already started waning on his impromptu lesson from his dad, and as you looked over, you could see Sungchan beginning to wind down on his instructing as he realized this. You checked the time on your phone, then looked back to the two college boys. “Sure, you can ask Binnie if he wants to skate.”

They erupted into celebratory hoots, chest-bumping before practically tossing aside their unnecessary equipment. Suddenly realizing themselves, they collected themselves and turned to you, bowing their heads politely. “Thank you, Professor.”

“You’re welcome, boys,” you replied with humor in your voice, watching as they took off, seemingly racing each other to Sungchan and Woobin.

You could hear bits of their conversation from where you were leaning against the wall halfway down the rink, and watched fondly as your son’s face lit up with enthusiasm, then the Raptors players started pulling him down the ice with them, his delighted laughter bouncing around the rink.

Sungchan leisurely skated over and stopped in front of you. With a great flourish, he bowed and offered his hand out to you. You laughed, placing your hand atop his, and he dropped a kiss to the back of your gloved fingers. He stood up straight again, pulling you off the wall with little resistance from you, before taking both your hands and beginning to skate backwards in front of you, guiding you along with him. Neither of you chose to mention the fact that you knew how to skate just fine, playing along with the fun of the moment as he easily took you around the rink that you were sure he could navigate with his eyes closed at this point.

“Oh, do we have dishwasher pods on the list?” You suddenly asked as soon as the thought popped into your mind.

“We put it on there last night when we loaded the dishwasher and saw that we were almost out,” he reassured you, not even breaking stride.

“Right, thanks.” You smiled, giving his hands a squeeze.

“I also put dish soap on there this morning, by the way.”

“I love you.”

He slowed the two of you down on the far side of the rink, letting go of one of your hands to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you closer. “I love you too, baby.”

After doing a few things out and about, the three of you headed home.

“Hey, buddy,” Sungchan called for your son’s attention, his hands occupied with groceries. “Do you want me or Mommy to help you get ready for your nap? Or are you going to try to do it yourself?”

“Mm…” He looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Mommy!”

“Alright, help with the groceries then I’ll help you, Binnie,” you bargained, putting a bag down on the ground in his reach.

As Woobin dutifully put the bags of chips and boxes of gummies on the lower shelves of the pantry that he could reach, you and Sungchan quickly put away the rest of the groceries. When there was just cleaning and other household supplies left, your husband grabbed those and nodded towards your son.

“Go put buddy down, I’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Channie,” you pecked his cheek before turning to your child. “Lead the way!”

Woobin was able to get into his pajamas by himself, so you were really just there to tuck him in and kiss his forehead. You never bought into the “cry themselves out” mindset from the get-go, and to this day would sit with him until he fell asleep if he asked.

Except this time, he didn’t get into bed at all, standing next to the piece of furniture with you and staring at it like you were about to cliff dive instead of nap. He looked up at you, and you already saw his bottom lip quivering.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m right here, my sweet,” you promised, kneeling down in front of him so you were eye-to-eye. “What’s wrong?”

He threw his arms around your neck, taking quick, shallow breaths as he very bravely tried to communicate with you. “I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna…”

“Okay, I won’t make you right now,” you promised, rubbing his back. “Will you tell me what’s making you upset? Is it the nap? Going to sleep? Did you have a bad dream?”

But he had already devolved into incomprehensible sobs, and you bit your lip at the twinge in your chest. “Alright, sweet, how about we go to Mommy and Daddy’s room? Hm? And I’ll read you something. If you don’t want to nap, you don’t have to today, okay? Sound good?”

You could feel him nod into your shoulder, and that was all you needed to pick him up and settle him on your hip to carry him out of his room. As you passed by Sungchan putting away new bottles of dish soap and dishwasher pods under the sink, he gave you a concerned look. You mouthed a ‘later’ to him as you took your son across your house and into your room. As you passed by your bookshelf, you quickly selected a book, then sat down at the head of your bed, Woobin on your lap. Pulling your blanket up over you two, you let him get settled in and comfortable, still very much crying all the while.

Holding your book with one hand and resting the other on his back, you started reading. After a while, his sobs died down to hiccups, which petered out to just the occasional sniffle. But you could see that he was still awake, his eyes open and following your place as you read. Then, after a while longer, they started to slowly fall shut and his chin would tilt down, then he’d quickly open his eyes again and jerk his head up. Finally, he couldn’t fight the heaviness of his lids, and he fell asleep. You put your bookmark in where you were just before his eyes closed, but kept reading past that, just in case. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the door handle slowly turn, and your bedroom door inch open before Sungchan peered in.

Your husband pointed to the boy in your lap, then made a gesture of pretending to sleep on a pillow, lifting his eyebrows questioningly after. You nodded, still reading softly.

Sungchan slipped in the room, closing the door quietly behind him as well. Having come to a stopping place, you finally closed your book and set it aside on the one you already had on your nightstand.

“Really? You’re reading Breton lais to our child?” Sungchan’s teasing whisper was barely audible. “He’s going to start school saying stuff like nary and furthermore.”

“Says the man who knew I was reading a Breton lai,” you shot back just as quietly.

“Getting married to a lit professor, you pick up a few things.” He then looked down at Woobin. “What happened?”

You sighed and readjusted slightly to hold him tighter now that you had two free arms. “I don’t know. He couldn’t tell me. As soon as he had to get into bed for his nap he just… broke down.”

A deep frown cut across Sungchan’s face as he stroked your son’s hair, but he said nothing else. He left the room, and you heard him moving around throughout the house as you picked up the other book from your nightstand. Eventually, he meandered back in, sitting on his side of the bed and setting up his laptop to quietly work beside you as your son continued napping on your lap and you continued your book. In addition to doing research at the university and being the assistant coach for the hockey team, Sungchan had picked up teaching a couple of Intro to Biology for majors sections, and you could see him answering emails from his students out of the corner of your eye. You were rereading the material for the Direct Study you were leading next semester.

Eventually, Woobin slowly started stirring, grumbling, yawning, and rubbing at his eyes before burying his face back in your chest with a sigh. You stroked his back, attention still on your book. He turned over in your arms when he finally decided that he was awake, blinking his eyes open and staring off into the middle distance.

“Hey, Binnie, you awake?” Sungchan asked quietly.

He nodded slowly, stretching his arms up, and you had to duck your head out of the way to avoid getting smacked in the face by a stray hand.

“Sleep good?” Your husband kept talking to him.

He nodded again, letting out another adorable little yawn.

“Of course you did,” Sungchan chuckled, gently pinching the tip of his nose. “You got the best seat in the house right there, bud.”

Woobin made grabby hands at Sungchan, and he moved his laptop to the side to transfer him from your lap to his, pressing a kiss to his forehead once he was settled in against his chest.

“Uncle Chenle is going to be over soon,” you reminded your son of your plans for the night. “Are you excited?”

He perked up at this. “Yeah! He said he was gonna bring me back a souvenir!”

“He does love to spoil you,” Sungchan shook his head, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As Woobin busied himself with his toys in his room, the horrors of naptime all but forgotten, you and Sungchan were having a fervent, whispered conversation in your bedroom.

“Should we even go tonight?” You asked, pulling your outfit on.

“I know, I’m worried about bedtime…” Sungchan sighed, nevertheless assisting you with your zipper.

“Chenle’s really good with him, and you know how much he dotes on Woobin.” You paused in front of the mirror, smoothing out the wrinkles. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or your husband at this point.

“I know, I don’t doubt how much he loves our kid, or how much buddy loves him,” he replied, fidgeting with his tie behind you. “I just… would hate to not be there.”

“Me too,” you replied quietly, turning around to fix his tie yourself. “I can practically feel the stress migraine coming on thinking about it.”

“Okay, well don’t do that, baby,” Sungchan insisted, resting his hands on your waist to pull you closer. “I mean, that didn’t happen at bedtime yesterday, did it?”

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed. “Or naptime yesterday…”

“Who’s to say it’ll happen at bedtime today?” He suggested. “Might’ve been a one-time thing. Or only for naps.”

“Right.” You breathed out, having finished with his tie, and now looked up at him questioningly. “So we’re going?”

“Seems like it.”

“We should still give Chenle a heads-up.”

“Of course.”

Chenle pulled up in his sleek luxury car soon after, and you made sure to greet him at the door while Sungchan helped Woobin put his toys up.

“Whew! Look at you!” Chenle whistled as he pulled back from hugging you, grabbing your hand and twirling you around. “MILF! MILF! MILF!”

You laughed, shaking him off. “Quiet! You’re a menace, I swear. You better be filtering around my child.”

“Of course, of course.” He held his hands up in surrender, and you saw that one held a gift bag. A rather large gift bag.

“And what did you bring him this time? Milan, was it?”

“A model of the Arco della Pace for us to build together, of course.”

“Oh, of course.” You shook your head fondly, but couldn’t stop the worry from overtaking your mood. “Chenle, I do have to tell you something.”

Your friend immediately matched your change in mood, furrowing his brow with concern. “Everything okay, Y/N?”

“When I was trying to put Binnie down for his nap today, he couldn’t get into his bed. He couldn’t tell me what was wrong, he just started crying and saying he didn’t want to. He had to take his nap in our room with the two of us. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I wanted to give you a heads up, in case it happens again at bedtime, since I know you always say he’s really good for you. If it does, just call and we’ll come right back, okay? Don’t feel bad at all, it’s not your fault.”

Chenle listened carefully and nodded thoughtfully as you explained the situation to him. “Okay, yeah. Are you two sure you even want to go? We can all have a really fun hangout with Uncle Chenle and then I can peace before bedtime if that’s what needs to happen tonight.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, but ultimately shook your head. “We told Ten we were going to be there. I’d like to at least try to see him accept the award.”

“Of course.” Chenle patted his chest. “I won’t take it personally if he starts crying for Mommy at bedtime tonight.”

“When you put it like that I really don’t want to go.”

“Go,” he insisted. “We’ll be fine.”

“Uncle Chenle!” A delighted squeal came as your son ran in, wrapping himself around Chenle’s legs like a koala.

“Hey, Binnie!” Your friend beamed down at him, squeezing his cheeks in one hand. “How are you?”

“I’m good!” His words were a little garbled as Chenle smushed his face.

“Hey, Chenle,” Sungchan greeted him as well, patting him on the shoulder as he walked by to get to your side.

“Hey, Sungchan!”

“Are you ready to go, hon?” Your husband asked you as the other two started an enthusiastic guessing game of what Chenle brought Woobin back as a souvenir from Milan.

“Yeah.” You nodded. Raising your voice slightly to address the others, you announced, “Alright, guys, we’re heading out. Binnie, Daddy and I will be back after you’re asleep, okay?”

“Goodbye and goodnight!” He darted over as you and Sungchan knelt down to each give him a hug, and two more kisses—one for goodbye, and another for his goodnight kiss, since you wouldn’t be putting him to bed. Really, when you came home, you two always checked on him and gave him one last peck goodnight then, but he of course didn’t know that.

The award for Literary Theory Journal Editor of the Year had barely been placed in Ten’s hands when you saw Sungchan’s phone light up in his lap out of the corner of your eye. He squeezed your shoulder in a silent ‘be right back’ before standing from your table and quietly slipping out of the ballroom. You kept your eyes on Ten as he gave a short and charismatic acceptance speech, clapping when everyone else did, though you stayed keenly aware of the empty seat next to you. Your friend got his picture taken and shook lots of hands on his way back to your table, and your colleagues at your table all rose to greet him when he finally returned.

“Congrats, Ten,” you hugged him, your eyes straying over his shoulder to the door that Sungchan had left through.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he patted your back, pulling away still with a wide grin. “I saw Sungchan get up, is everything alright?”

You waved off his concerns for now. “Chenle probably set off the smoke alarm or something.”

Sungchan returned just a moment later, staving off his clearly concerned face for long enough to give Ten his congrats as well.

“You missed my hilarious acceptance speech, Sungchan,” Ten clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Damn, maybe next year.”

“Ooh, you think I’ll win next year too?”

“Why not?” Sungchan shrugged. “I don’t know how all the other editors could suddenly get better than you in a year.”

“Great point.”

The awards had continued, and everyone took their seats, though your focus was only on Sungchan and whatever that call was about. He leaned over to inform you quietly, “That was Chenle. SOS for buddy’s bedtime, sounds like the same as naptime.”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’ll get the car,” he murmured before giving your shoulder a fleeting touch and leaving your table.

You turned to Ten to give him a real reason behind your sudden departure. “Hey, that was Chenle, and Woobin is—”

“It’s all good,” your friend cut you off with a smile, patting your arm. “Go be good parents, you’ve already been good friends. Promise.”

“Thanks.” You could feel the relieved smile on your face. “Congrats again, Ten.”

After giving your hushed goodbyes to the rest of your colleagues, you hurried out of the ballroom. Sungchan didn’t complain about the anxious death grip you had on his hand the entire ride home, simply smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as the fingers of his other hand tapped out impatient rhythms on the steering wheel at every red light you got stuck at.

Finally, you arrived home, and you didn’t even have to go searching for Woobin and Chenle, as you were barely in your foyer and Sungchan hadn’t even had the chance to finish locking the front door behind him when a small form came running in, barreling into your legs. Chenle was a few steps behind your son, entering right after him. Woobin was blubbering and sobbing against you, beyond the point of any sort of intelligible speech. You sighed forlornly and rested a hand on his head, feeling your heart break as you looked down at him, not knowing how to help him.

Sungchan immediately took your purse from your other hand, rubbing your back briefly as he passed by. As he and Chenle went to talk in the living room, you hooked your hands under your son’s arms and heaved him up onto your hip, carrying him into your room with you. You maneuvered to support him with one arm so you could take off your shoes with the other hand, tossing them in the vague direction of your closet door. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you readjusted him so that he was sitting in your lap, crying into your neck, and you gently stroked the back of his head as he shook in your arms.

“I’m right here, Binnie. I’ve got you. Mommy’s right here,” you told him softly, a hard lump growing in your throat. “You’re okay, my sweet. You’re okay. I promise, I’ve got you.”

Eventually, you heard Chenle and Sungchan’s hushed voices pass by, then the front door open and close. A couple minutes later, there was a soft knocking at your bedroom door.

“Hey, that’s Daddy,” you informed Woobin. “Is it okay if he comes in and stays with us too?”

Woobin nodded from where his face was still hidden in your neck. His sobs hadn’t stopped, and at this rate, you were worried he was going to make himself throw up with how much he was crying and hiccupping.

“Come in,” you called out.

Sungchan had already discarded his suit jacket and tie elsewhere, you realized as he slipped into the room. A pained look quickly took over his features as his eyes immediately found the two of you. He set the no-spill cup he’d brought in with him—Woobin’s favorite cartoon characters printed all around the outside—down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me,” Sungchan said quietly. “I brought some water; I thought your throat might be hurting a little.”

You son let out a couple sniffles, as if contemplating this for the first time.

Your husband continued, “Do you think you can sit with me and drink some water while Mommy changes into her jammies?”

“I won’t leave the room, sweet,” you assured him. “I’ll be right here with you and Daddy.”

In lieu of a verbal response, he nodded again and loosened the vice-like grip he’d had around your neck, letting you shift him over into his dad’s arms. Before you could go run and do the fastest change of your life, Sungchan grabbed your hand, pulling you around to look at him. As you gazed down at him, with Woobin bawling inconsolably in his lap, the two of you exchanged a brief, unspoken moment of uncertainty, unknowing, of knowing that neither of you knew what to do for your son. Your hand was shaking—or maybe that was his—as you clutched each other tightly for just a second.

Then you had to let go of him to rush to change, and Sungchan tried to gently coax Woobin into taking a sip of water. You could hear him coaching your son through taking just one little sip at a time and not chugging, or he’d make himself sick. You, meanwhile, were throwing clothes into the general vicinity of where they needed to go as you pulled on new ones. The nice material now had snot and spit all over them, you were sure they’d need to be dry-cleaned anyway, so you didn’t care about the wrinkles they’d garner from being crumpled up on the floor for the night. You then rushed through taking out your hair and brushing your teeth, keeping the en suite bathroom door open all the while.

Back over with your husband and son, you saw that the task of sipping water had forced his crying to slow down considerably, and you took a deep breath to not pass on your stress back to your child. The last thing you needed to do was get him going again just because you were so worried. He also had his favorite stuffed animal tucked under his other arm, the only one that had survived from his infancy to now, a deer plushie. You didn’t even remember seeing Sungchan bring that in with him, your brain was so scrambled.

“Here, Binnie, Mommy’s back. I feel left out, I’m not the only one not in my jammies,” Sungchan joked, which didn’t even earn a giggle from your child as it normally would’ve. “You want to go back to Mommy and I’ll get changed?”

Woobin nodded, and Sungchan let you get into a more comfortable position up by the headboard before depositing your son into your arms. You could at least see some of his face from the new angle of him sitting sideways in your lap, and it was of course red, puffy, and covered in tears. Sungchan must have already cleaned up some of his snot, as you spotted several discarded tissues on the nightstand.

“Did Puck come to make sure you were okay, too?” You asked quietly, gently tapping one of the plushie’s soft antlers. Puck the Buck, as he had been so brilliantly named some time ago.

Another nod and a sniffle.

“That was nice of him.” You stroked the deer’s head. “Thank you, Puck.”

Woobin patted the deer’s head, too, and as you watched more tears fall down his cheeks, you pressed a long kiss to his hair, silently apologizing for not knowing how to fix it all right now. Sungchan came back from the bathroom just a moment later, scooting onto the bed from the other side.

“Okay, Binnie. What do you think? Do you want to watch an episode of your show?” He suggested. “Or Mommy can finish reading you Bisclavret? Or…”

As he tried to think of other options, you gave him a bewildered look over your son’s head at the fact that he apparently knew which Breton lai you were reading earlier. That was something to address later, though.

Woobin shook his head, though.

“No?” Sungchan said questioningly. “No to what? Do you want Mommy to read?”

Head shake.

“Do you want to watch an episode of your show?”

Head nod.

And so you, Woobin, Puck, and Sungchan all settled in under your covers to watch an episode of his favorite cartoon. Except you and Sungchan didn’t have a TV in your bedroom, and both of your laptops were charging across the house in your home office, so you all had to scoot in close to be able to see it on the much smaller screen of Sungchan’s phone. Puck took up a considerable amount of space when crowding around a phone to watch something, and from your vantage point mostly behind your son and the plushie, you couldn’t see a thing past the deer head and antlers, but you didn’t really care about catching up on the children’s cartoon. You were much more preoccupied with listening for Woobin’s sniffles to cease, and watching as his breathing evened out. He was still awake after one episode, but quiet, calm, and Sungchan went ahead and played the next one.

You gently rubbed his back, smiling to yourself when you heard his first yawn of the night. When his second came before the five-minute mark, you knew he wouldn’t last the whole episode. And sure enough, he was out before the halfway point. Sungchan turned his phone off and set it aside. The two of you were curled up on either side of your son, with Sungchan facing him and you.

Your husband reached a hand up, and you thought he was going to stroke Woobin’s hair, but he kept going and gently wiped a thumb under your eye instead, at the fresh tears that had just brimmed there. You placed your hand over his, turning your head just enough to leave a kiss on his palm.

You woke up early in the morning with a stress migraine. When you shuffled into the kitchen to get a glass of water, the stove clock read 3:03. You quickly chugged your first glass of water, then refilled it to take back with you. Walking through to your bathroom, you retrieved your bottle of rescue medication from your drawer. This one was a muscle relaxer, so you didn’t see any point in keeping it in your purse, as you weren’t able to drive after taking it, which you typically needed to do when you were out and about. You knocked back a tablet before screwing the lid back on and putting it away again. After taking a few more sips of your water, you slipped back under the covers with your family.

Your head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but you still blearily opened one eye to look at your son, watching as his chest rose and fell peacefully. He was on his back now, and you couldn’t help but lay a hand on his front, feeling his even breaths under your palm. Sungchan’s foot tapped yours under the blanket briefly as he readjusted in his sleep, and you smiled to yourself. And then it happened again, and you peered over to the other pillow suspiciously.

In the low light, you could see Sungchan looking right at you. He pointed to his own head, then raised his eyebrows.

You lifted your hand in a ‘meh’ gesture, then held up 5 fingers to rate it out of 10, before setting your hand back down on Woobin’s front. Sungchan found your arm under the covers, gently squeezing your forearm. You tapped his foot in return, a silent exchange, before closing your eyes and settling back in to sleep.

Two hushed voices woke you up for the second time that morning. Well, one hushed voice, and one who hadn’t quite mastered whispering yet.

“What do you think Mommy—”

“Quiet, buddy, remember?” Sungchan’s words were barely discernible from behind the closed bathroom door. “Your mom’s got a migraine, and—”

“—and Mommy needs to sleep when she’s got a migraine,” Woobin finished dutifully, his voice a notch quieter than before. “So her head feels better.”

“That’s right, bud. Now come on, breakfast.”

“That’s what I—” Your son stopped himself as his voice raised with his excitement. He continued, in his best half-whisper, “Sorry, Daddy. I know: We gotta whisper. Quiet. I was asking what Mommy wants for breakfast?”

The two of them were quiet, and you heard the bathroom door open, then one pair of feet quietly tread across your room to open the bedroom, then shut it softly. You could hear their voices slowly fade as they walked further away.

“I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“Because you always bring me breakfast in bed when I’m sick!” Woobin’s voice was back to it’s normal volume as he tried to emphatically get his point across to his dad. Sungchan must have gestured for him to quiet down again, as he dropped down to a part-whisper once more, “It’s Mommy’s turn.”

“You’re right. Let’s see what we can make…”

When you first got Woobin, you only got a migraine a couple times a year, a significant drop from when you were first diagnosed. The frequency fluctuated over the years and seasons, though, and there was a short period of time after becoming new parents, that you had been getting them weekly. You knew that put a strain on Sungchan, since a spouse with noise-sensitive migraines and a crying baby didn’t exactly mix. You of course would go through any migraine pain to take care of your son, but your husband couldn’t stand seeing you do it if it could be avoided. After some medication changes, you were fairly consistent with one every other month now. When Woobin was a toddler, and couldn’t quite grasp the concept of needing to play quietly when he wasn’t napping, Sungchan would take him on “field trips” while you rested. You’d decided to give him a simple explanation of a migraine to him when he was a little older, so he could easier differentiate between the migraines that you got, and when he might have a headache from a cold, or because his body was telling him he needed to drink some more water. He was also now your designated band-aid picker for your monthly injection, and had a better grasp on when, why, and how to keep quiet when you needed it.

Your head unfortunately still hurt, though your heart was warmed by your kind-hearted kid. There were lots of times where you and Sungchan felt like you had no clue what you were doing—like your current predicament with bedtime—but you figured you were doing a pretty alright job overall.

You contemplated getting up to take another dose. The only plans you had for today were a family trip to the park and some chores at home. Your husband would probably insist on you skipping the park for today, but if the second dose worked, you could probably get some things done around the house at least. Unfortunately, your days of laying in bed all day when you had a low-level migraine were long gone. If you could open your eyes, you usually had something that needed to get done.

But for this morning, at least, for now, you could close your eyes for just a little longer. You rolled over, away from the window where a thin strip of light had gotten in through a gap between your blackout curtains that Sungchan must have pulled closed.

You didn’t quite go back to sleep, but you dozed somewhere in between as you fondly listened to the sounds of Sungchan and Woobin trying to make breakfast as silently as possible. The running of the sink, sizzling of something on the stove, beep of the microwave before it was hastily shut off, fridge opening and closing, Sungchan’s quiet murmured directions to Woobin, and your son’s inquisitive tone in return.

Eventually, you heard someone shuffling up to your bedroom door, sounding much too small to be your husband. The door very slowly creaked open, and he tiptoed over to your side of the bed.

“Mommy?” His whisper had gotten better over the morning, though it didn’t matter much, since he was definitely right in front of your face.

You cracked open one eye, and offered him a soft smile. “Morning, buddy.”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Binnie, I’m awake,” you chuckled, propping yourself up on one elbow and rubbing your eyes.

“Daddy and I made you breakfast, hold on!” And he darted back out of the room.

You looked at the empty doorway fondly, slowly pushing yourself up into a sitting position at the head of the bed. Sungchan and Woobin reappeared a moment later with a tray filled with various breakfast foods.

“Morning, beautiful,” Sungchan greeted you quietly, pecking the crown of your head as he went to set the tray down in your lap.

“Mm, morning, Channie,” you kissed his cheek before he could stand all the way back up. “This looks wonderful, thank you guys.”

In one corner of the tray you spotted a colorful assortment of pills, all of your morning doses plus what looked like a couple of your acute medications from your purse that was definitely in the dining room. You grabbed your water from the nightstand to get that out of the way first.

“We’ll let you eat in peace,” Sungchan declared, patting your son on the head to start to usher him out.

“No, it’s okay,” you stopped them. “It’s not so bad. I want you two to eat with me.”

Woobin’s face lit up, and he wasted no time in clambering up on the bed with you. You held the tray steady as he wedged himself in next to you.

“Alright, I’ll go get mine and buddy’s plates.”

Woobin was still earnestly pointing out each piece of food on your tray to you, explaining exactly how he had helped Sungchan prepare all of it when your husband returned. Sungchan sat down in front of you, and as he handed your son his plate, you noticed that there was nothing on it that could make too much of a mess if it happened to capsize.

“Sounds like you were a big help,” you praised your son, stroking the back of his head.

“He was,” Sungchan agreed. “Breakfast in bed was his idea.”

“Really?” You feigned surprise as Woobin nodded proudly. They didn’t need to know that you’d heard their entire bathroom conversation. “Thank you, sweet, it was a very good idea.”

After a very quiet breakfast, Sungchan took the plates into the kitchen, and you started making your mental list of tasks for the day. No vacuum—you weren’t a masochist—but there was laundry to do, and if Sungchan started the dishwasher before he left, it would be done and ready to put away before they got back from the park.

Just as you had put your feet over the edge of the bed to get up, with the bathroom as your destination, you were caught off-guard by Woobin trudging into your room with an armful of toys. He dropped them onto your mattress before hauling himself up after them.

“Hey…” You greeted him with an air of question. “What are you doing, Binnie?”

Sungchan must have spotted him on his way over, as he poked his head in right then, already laser-focused on your son. “What’s all this, bud?”

“We can’t go to the park,” he said matter-of-factly, beginning to sort out the toys that had gotten all mixed up in being carried over and dumped into a pile. “I’ll be quiet, promise!”

“I didn’t say we weren’t going at all,” Sungchan clarified. “I just said Mommy needed to stay home this time, because she’s not feeling well. You and I are still going. Minha and her dad are going to be there too.”

“I don’t want to go. I don’t like the park,” he declared, a stern pout creasing his face.

“What? You don’t like the park?” You asked.

“No,” he mumbled. “I hate it.”

You exchanged bewildered looks with Sungchan at this sudden development. Deciding to try again, you said calmly, “Binnie, I’ll go with you next time, okay? I promise. You have lots of fun at the park.”

“No. I don’t want to go.”

“Okay, no park,” Sungchan acquiesced. “But it’s such a nice day out, I think a walk sounds good. What do you think?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

“Ah, you know, my head feels good enough for a walk,” you said brightly. “I think I’d like to go on a walk. Are you sure you don’t want to go, buddy?”

“Well… okay.”

“Alright,” you beamed at him, patting his cheek as he finally looked up at you. “Mommy’s got to shower then I’ll be ready to go.”

“How about you get out of your jammies too, Woobin?” Sungchan suggested.

“Go ahead, sweet,” you sent him off with one more pat.

Your son wordlessly got off the bed and left your room. As soon as he was gone, you look at Sungchan, utterly at a loss.

“What was that?” He whispered, following you into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you two.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“He loves the park! I mean, he loves going to the grocery store! He’s one of the most go-with-the-flow kids I’ve ever met!”

“He was obviously lying about hating the park. But why? His best friend’s going to be there, he’s been talking about it since we planned it at pickup on Friday.”

“You think it’s related to what’s been going with bedtime and naptime?” Sungchan paced in front of you. “I mean, what if it’s like separation anxiety? Or something?”

“But he loves you.”

“I know, I know.”

“He even went through that phase when he was a year old where he wouldn’t let me put him to sleep, it had to be you every time.”

“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “I’m just saying… we might have hit a new phase.”

“But I could at least take him to the park without you. And he went to daycare. Now…”

“Hey, tomorrow, I’ll drop him off at school,” Sungchan said. “You know, so it’ll be gradual. The two of us at home, then just me, then he’s at school.”

“Channie, he wouldn’t let you take him to the park today.”

“I just think that if your choice is between leaving him crying at VPK or not, you’re going to be getting a new little TA in your classes tomorrow.”

You chewed on your bottom lip before sighing and nodding. “You’re right, you’re right. Okay, we’ll try your way tomorrow.”

“We’ll figure this out, hon,” he reassured you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. “But not right now in our bathroom while you’ve got a migraine.”

You hugged him back, burying your face in his neck and taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just worry about today right now.”

After your shower, you got dressed in peace and meandered out of your room to find Sungchan and Woobin by the front door. Woobin hadn’t quite mastered shoelaces, so your husband was helping him out. You slipped your own shoes on, and grabbed a pair of sunglasses on the table by the front door.

“Alright, ready?” Sungchan asked, having finished with your son’s shoes.

“Ready!” Binnie chirped.

You offered a thumbs-up, silently reaching to unlock your front door. Woobin went out first, eagerly bounding down the steps of your front porch. You followed after him onto the sidewalk as you listened to Sungchan lock up behind you, then catch up to the two of you with just a few large strides. The sun outside was painfully bright, even with your sunglasses on, and as you held up one hand to cast a shadow over your eyes, you reached your other out to grab Sungchan’s hand. He held yours firmly, even as you squinted and winced against the light, nearly missing a step when you walked in a brighter patch between shadows of trees, keeping you upright and on the paved path.

Woobin was just a couple steps in front of you, seemingly having a great time. He was talking to himself, interspersed with some singing, and of course pointing out anything he found remotely interesting to the both of you.

“Snail!” He yelled out enthusiastically, pointing to said small creature on the ground.

“Cool, buddy,” Sungchan responded encouragingly.

“Worm!”

“I see. Careful, we don’t want to step on him. He’s using the sidewalk too.”

That made Woobin giggle, giving the worm a wide berth as he stepped around it. You stepped over it.

The boy suddenly gasped, and stopped in his tracks as he pointed to a flower in one of your neighbors’ gardens. “Butterfly! Mommy, do you see it?”

You squinted in the direction he was pointing, finally seeing which one he was indicating. A dark butterfly on a bright yellow flower. “Yeah, Binnie, I see it. That’s a swallowtail butterfly.”

“Swallowtail butterfly,” he repeated, slowly to make sure he was pronouncing it right.

“That’s right.” You patted his head with your free hand.

“What other kinds of butterflies are there?” He asked as you continued your walk.

“Oh, lots,” you mused. “Your dad might know a butterfly expert, you know.”

He looked up at Sungchan with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, Dr. Hwang, one of my co-workers, she’s an entomologist.”

Your son furrowed his brows in concentration. “Entee— enah— innamolologiss.”

“Come on, let’s sound it out, bud: En,” Sungchan talked him through it. Despite his earlier teasing of you reading Breton lai to your son, your husband was just as much to blame for Woobin’s inflated vocabulary, always taking the time to teach him lengthy scientific terms for things.

“En.”

“Tah.”

“Tah.”

“Mol.”

“Mol.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entah.”

“Entah.”

“Molo.”

“Molo.”

“Gist.”

“Gist.”

“Entomologist.”

“Enamolgist.”

“Yeah!” Your husband beamed, holding up his hand for a high five.

“What’s an enamolgist?” Woobin asked.

“A scientist that studies bugs. Like butterflies.”

“Butterflies aren’t bugs!” He insisted.

“They are.”

“But how can they be bugs? They’re butterflies!”

Sungchan laughed. “When you meet Dr. Hwang, you can ask her and she’ll explain it. She can also tell you all about all sorts of butterflies. Okay?”

“Your dad studies fish, remember?” You added. “Way different than bugs and butterflies.”

“And you study books!” Woobin said. “And stories! And reading! And writing!”

“That’s right.” You chuckled fondly. “Way, way different than bugs or butterflies or fish.”

By the time you got back to your house, you could barely open one eye enough to navigate the steps and get through the front door. It felt like you were being stabbed in your left eye, the pain shooting back through the entire left side of your head, and you patted Sungchan’s arm before wordlessly heading off towards your room. You beelined for your bathroom, knocking back another dose of the rescue medication you had in there.

As you clutched your eye with one hand and gripped the bathroom counter tightly with the other, the door was pushed ajar. You quickly went to drop your hand and throw on a smile, then saw it was Sungchan, who put another tablet into your hand, your second rescue medication in the dining room.

“Thanks, baby,” you mumbled, taking that one as well.

He sighed, but said nothing else as he rested a hand on your back. You covered both of your eyes as you turned into his chest, feeling when your fingers quickly turned moist. You took deep, shaking, quiet breaths. One of Sungchan’s hands cradled the back of your head while the other slowly rubbed up and down your back.

“Eye mask?” He murmured, referring to the cooling eye mask you kept in the fridge to help with migraine pain. It could also be microwaved if you wanted it warm instead.

“What’s Binnie doing?” You sniffed.

“Picking a movie for me and him. You’re going to lay down. Do you want your eye mask?”

“Yes, please.”

And so Sungchan grabbed the mask from the fridge for you as you crawled back into bed, handing you your earplugs from your nightstand drawer first.

You tried to refuse, eyes drifting towards your bedroom door. “No, but—”

“I’ve got him, hon.” He opened the case and pushed the earplugs into your hand. “You’ve done plenty, Supermom. Okay?”

You nodded slowly, pushing the earplugs in one at a time. He helped you adjust the eye mask, then pulled the covers up over you. You felt as he stood up from the bed and gave one final pat to your arm.

You woke up to find that the medication and nap had taken the edge off the migraine, at least. There was still a dull ache in your head, and you felt like shit, but it wasn’t the worst that you’d ever felt. You pulled the room-temperature mask off your face and set it on your nightstand before rolling over, fully intending on burying your face in your pillow and going back to sleep if you could.

You weren’t expecting to see Sungchan lying next to you on top of the covers, hand tucked under his cheek. His eyes were open, watching you.

“Hi, Channie,” you said quietly, taking your earplugs out and setting those aside as well.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, voice barely above a murmur.

“I’m alright. Still hurts, but not as bad,” you replied, reaching a hand out towards him. He grasped it, gentle but steadfast. “Where’s Binnie? Down for his nap?”

“Snacktime. I called in backup, though, my dad’s here.”

“I’m—” You stopped yourself before you could apologize, biting down on your lip before mustering up a smile. “Thank you. For taking care of me and buddy today. More than you usually do.”

“I wish I could’ve done more for you, baby,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You were making sure our son was okay. He can’t use the microwave, I can manage my ten-thousandth migraine on my own.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted. “You’ve been Superdad and Superhusband today. So relax, okay?”

“Alright.”

“How long is your dad staying?”

“He brought ingredients to make dinner. My mom’s coming when she gets off her shift.”

You smiled fondly at your in-laws’ kindness, and lifted the blankets up. “Five more minutes?”

Sungchan joined you under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. You held him close, savoring his familiar warmth and the comforting pressure of him laying practically on top of you. You curled your fingers in his hair, resting your cheek against the crown of his head.

“Ten,” he mumbled against your skin. “Ten more minutes.”

“Hey Professor, mind if we hang out in here?” A familiar pair of heads had poked into your office, two freshmen Raptors players who definitely weren’t in any of your classes this semester.

“Is there somewhere you should be?” You asked, gesturing to the couch across from you nevertheless. It made no difference to you if two adults decided to skip their college classes, you were more-so just curious. “It’s a bit early to be getting to campus if you don’t have a class…”

“Well, we usually have Coach Jung’s class right now, but he just sent out an email cancelling,” the left wing explained, dropping into one corner as his friend splayed out across the remaining two-thirds.

“And our next class is in this building, so we thought we’d see if you were in,” the right wing finished.

“What class do you have in this building?” You tried to keep a casual tone as you checked your phone for any missed calls or text from Sungchan that would clue you into why he’s suddenly missed his class this morning.

As they proceeded to rant about the 2000-level Grammar class they had signed up for in order to fulfill their Gen Ed requirements, mistakenly thinking it would be easy since it was only a 2000-level, you sent a quick text to your husband.

[you: just checking in. did drop-off go okay?]

Woobin once again slept in yours and Sungchan’s room last night, and though he was a little confused at his dad taking him to school today since you usually dropped him off on Mondays, there was no meltdown when you gave him his goodbye kiss. So far so good, until now.

“What classes are you teaching in the fall, Professor?” The left wing asked you.

“Oh, uh, I’ve got Lit Theory, Direct Study, and I’m teaching a Special Topics section in Contemporary Short Stories. We’ll mostly be focusing on magical realism, surrealism, that sort of thing,” you started rambling, still half-focused on your dark phone screen, waiting for it to light up with Sungchan’s reply. “I know neither of you are Lang majors, but it’s my first Special Topics class and I enjoyed having both of you last semester, so if you have a free slot in the fall, I’d appreciate it if you considered enrolling.”

“Hell yeah, that sounds cool,” the right wing grinned. “Is it going to be like, a bunch of essays, though?”

“There will be a final paper, but it will be mostly Socratic discussion, and the occasional short, one-page synthesis assignment,” you clarified. “No tests, no quizzes. As long as you read and participate enthusiastically, you’ll pass.”

“We’ll be there!” The left wing promised. “We loved your intro class. You’re like, one of the coolest professors ever, that’s why we asked.”

“I’m honored, boys, thanks,” you laughed.

“Coach Jung is cool too,” said the right wing, then he exchanged a mischievous grin with his friend. “But you’re cooler.”

“Oh, I’ve known that for quite some time, I assure you.”

“How long have you two been together?” The left wing asked curiously.

You twisted your wedding ring contemplatively. “Let’s see… We’ve been married for seven years, we started dating our senior year of undergrad, so… fifteen years? Yeah, it’ll be fifteen years this fall.”

“Wow. I didn’t even think you were that old.”

“What? Fifteen?” You chuckled, eyes straying to the picture on your desk of you, Sungchan, and Woobin from the party you held to celebrate his adoption being finalized.

“I mean, like, old enough to have been in college fifteen years ago.”

“Surprise.”

“So you met in senior year—”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s when we started dating. We met freshman year. First day of classes, actually, if I’m remembering correctly. In one of Dr. Son’s classes, so that tells you how long he’s been teaching.”

“Wow, he needs to retire,” the right wing snorted. “And I mean that with his best intentions at heart.”

“Why are you two so interested in me and Coach Jung all of a sudden?” You questioned, tilting your head and folding your hands over your lap.

“Well, we see you and Coach Jung and our MVP all the time but, you know, we don’t know a lot about you, outside your jobs,” the left wing shrugged. “You two seem cool, you know?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Where are you guys from?”

As they informed you that they were both from the same small town about five hours away, you nodded in understanding. Freshmen that hadn’t seen their parents since the holidays, a break that was only made even shorter by their being on the hockey team.

“You two are more than welcome to pop into my office whenever you happen to see me in here,” you reassured them. “And talk to me about whatever you want.”

By the time the players had left to go to class, you still hadn’t heard back from Sungchan, and you had your own class to teach. It was your Direct Study, which usually met in your office anyway since it was just two students. The conversation in this one was student-led, so as they evaluated what they thought the developing themes in the book were, bouncing ideas off each other, you tried to listen and engage earnestly, even as you stayed painfully aware of the lack of response from your husband.

You never forced them to stay for the entire block of time allotted for the class if the conversation didn’t need it, so when they were about done only forty-five minutes into the hour and a half block, you gave them the next chunk of the reading to do before next week, and bid them farewell. Then immediately left your office.

The Science building was across from the Lang building, and you headed for Sungchan's office first. If he was teaching a class right now, you knew it would be an Intro class and, therefore, most likely in one of the large lecture halls on the first floor, but you weren’t going to interrupt his lecture because he hadn’t replied to your message. You just wanted to check to see if he'd made it to campus yet. His office was on the second floor, past some of the teaching laboratories.

When you tested the door handle, you found it unlocked, and pushed it open. His desk lamp was on, illuminating the pictures he had there: one from your wedding day, another of the three of you from a hockey game, decked out in blue and orange Raptors gear, and a third of just you and Woobin from when he was a baby, the exact occasion you couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t in the office, but his backpack was on his desk chair, so he had at least made it to campus.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked to see that it was Sungchan calling.

“Hey, Channie,” you answered.

“Hi, hon,” he sounded a little out of breath. “Where are you?”

“Uhm, I’m actually at your office. I got worried…” You admitted.

“Oh, okay. We went to your office but couldn’t find you. Stay put, we’ll come to you.”

“Okay—Wait, ‘we?’”

“Yeah, uh, buddy’s with me,” he sighed shortly. “We'll be there in just a sec, okay? Bye, love you.”

And he hung up.

When Sungchan’s office door opened a few minutes later, Woobin was, in fact, the first thing that came through, immediately running to wrap his arms around your legs. Sungchan stepped through the door a moment later, looking disheveled as he took your son’s small backpack off his shoulder and put it on one of the chairs across from his desk.

“Hey, Binnie,” you greeted your son brightly, despite your alarm and confusion, hugging him back tightly. The harrowed look on Sungchan’s face was enough to let you know that this was something for you two to talk about later.

“Mommy!” Woobin was practically buzzing with excitement. “Mommy, guess what!”

“What, buddy?”

“Daddy said I can meet an enamolgist today!”

“Wow! That’s awesome,” you patted his head. “Did he say when Dr. Hwang was available?”

“I was just about to call her,” Sungchan answered. “We wanted to find you first, hon.”

“I saw some cool posters in the hall, Binnie,” you let go of your son and offered him your hand. “Let’s go look at those while your dad makes his call, okay?”

“Okay!” He took your hand and let you guide him out into the hall, shutting the office door behind you.

The first one you found was a diagram of a wetland ecosystem, taller than your head, and spanned the entire wall between two offices.

“I can’t see it,” Woobin craned his neck to look at the poster. “Can you pick me up, please?”

You hoisted him up by his underarms and onto your hip. “Is that better?”

“Thank you!” He then pointed to an animal. “What’s that?”

“Here, it’s labeled. Do you see?” You showed him the black line connecting the animal to its common name and scientific name. “Can you read that first one?”

“Spotted… sal… uh… man… der?”

“Spotted salamander, good!” You confirmed.

“So this one is a…” he pointed to another animal, following the line to its name. “Green… ana… con… da. Green anaconda!”

“That’s right, Binnie.”

The two of you were still on that same poster sounding out animal names, when Sungchan poked his head out from his office just a few doors down. Woobin was in the middle of a name, so you indicated to your husband to wait a moment before listening to the boy continue to sound it out. Sungchan walked over to join the two of you as Woobin had just finished his first attempt at the bird’s name.

“That was a good guess, it does look like the words ‘her’ and ‘on,’” you said. “But the animal is pronounced heron.”

“Hair-in,” he echoed slowly.

“You got it. Can you put it together now?”

“Great blue heron.”

“Good job, buddy,” Sungchan praised him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, buddy.”

“Did you get a hold of Dr. Hwang?” You asked.

“Yes, she’s in her office right now and has some spare time.”

“Yay!” Your son cheered, starting to wriggle out of your grip.

The three of you trekked to the third floor to get to Dr. Hwang’s office. Dr. Hwang was an older woman who welcomed you in warmly.

“Daddy says butterflies are bugs,” Woobin said very seriously. “Is that true?”

Dr. Hwang looked at Sungchan very judgmentally, before turning her attention down to your son. “Butterflies are insects, yes.”

“But how? They’re butterflies!”

“They’re just one kind of insect,” she explained patiently. “What’s your favorite fruit?”

“Mm… Grapes!”

“Are grapes fruit?”

“Well, yeah.”

“And fruit is food, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Grapes are a type of fruit, and fruits are a type of food. Does that make sense so far?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the same thing with butterflies. Butterflies are a type of insect, and insects are a type of animal.”

He seemed to think very hard about this for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily. “How many kinds of butterflies are there?”

“There are about 180,000 different species of butterflies and moths. That we know about.”

His eyes practically bulged out of his head. “Woah…”

“Would you like to see some?”

“Can I?” He then looked back at you and Sungchan. “Please? Can I?”

“Of course, buddy,” Sungchan smiled, then looked up at his colleague. “If it’s alright with you, Dr. Hwang, my wife and I are going to step out for a moment.”

She waved you off. “Of course, go ahead.”

“Thank you,” you nodded to her gratefully. Patting your son’s head, you informed him, “Daddy and I will be right back, buddy.”

As Dr. Hwang directed Woobin’s attention to a book, you and Sungchan stepped out into the hall, shutting the door behind you quietly.

“What happened?” You asked him fervently.

Sungchan pulled you a little further down the hall, keeping his voice low when he finally spoke. “He was doing fine until we got into his classroom. Got his arms around my neck, wouldn’t let go… Kid’s strong for a five-year-old.”

“Two of your students ended up in my office after you cancelled class.”

“Yeah, I stayed for the first thirty minutes, to try to ease him into it, but then when I tried to leave again, the same thing happened except worse… Kept asking for you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was too much of a distraction, we had to leave. He didn’t stop crying until I told him we were going to see you.”

You nodded in understanding, not upset with Sungchan in the slightest. If you’d been in his position, you probably would’ve done the same thing, if not, gave in even sooner.

“Do you think…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Do you think we should take him to see someone? See if it’s a phase or… something more serious? I mean, even if it is a phase, he’s clearly getting really upset about something…”

“Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea,” Sungchan agreed.

Dr. Kwon Hayoung was a younger woman, definitely no older than yourself and Sungchan if you had to guess, her posture relaxed as she sat in her mustard yellow armchair. Her entire office was colorful, filled with various toys, whimsical artworks, and plush, patterned pillows on the couch that you were currently sitting on with your husband. After lots of research, various recommendations from friends and colleagues at work, and an entire two weeks of Woobin being attached at the hip to one of the two of you, you had finally settled on taking him to Dr. Kwon. After an initial interview with all three of you, then just you and Sungchan (a task that was aided by the fact that Sungchan’s father had come along and occupied him in the meantime), she then evaluated your son, which required several breaks for him to see you. But finally, she had finished with him, and he went back to play with his grandpa while Dr. Kwon brought you and Sungchan back once again.

“There is nothing serious for us to be concerned about,” Dr. Kwon declared, her tone calm.

You and Sungchan exchanged an uncertain look. You cleared your throat, “Uhm…”

“I don’t mean to downplay the problems that your family is facing right now,” the child psychologist promised, readjusting her lavender purple frames on the bridge of her nose. “However, Woobin is developing typically for kids his age, which is good news.”

“Then why is he…?” Sungchan trailed off, his question obvious. Why is he doing all of this? So suddenly?

“You have been very open about him being adopted.”

“Yeah, we never wanted to hide it from him,” you said. “He even gets two parties every year, his birthday party, and we celebrate the day his adoption went through.”

“But he knows that he’s our son and we love him,” Sungchan added, shifting forward as his voice carried a slight edge to it.

“Of course, of course he knows that.” Dr. Kwon’s tone hadn’t lost any of the gentle kindness she began the conversation with. “Both you and he told me about another kid, in his class, who was not so understanding.”

“Yeah, it made buddy a little upset, but he seemed fine by the next day.”

“I do think he was fine. Until he had a recent dream, about falling asleep in his bed and waking up in someone else’s home,” she informed you, and you felt a harsh twinge in your chest as you realized that your son hadn’t even told you about that. “He’s not afraid that you two will give him away so much as he’s afraid that somebody will come take him from you.”

“Oh…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grimace as you thought about how scared your son must have felt since then.

Sungchan reached over to hold one of your hands. “What can we do? What are our options?”

“We can work on his anxiety, coping skills, attachment in sessions. Since it’s affected your daily lives as a family so much, I recommend starting at three times a week, and we can adjust from there. I would like both of you to attend as many as possible.”

“Of course,” you nodded quickly, squeezing Sungchan’s hand tight.

That night, after helping Woobin brush his teeth with his toothbrush and toothpaste that had migrated into your bathroom, you took your nighttime medication, then tucked it back away into the childproofed medicine cabinet. Sungchan was doing some late-night grading in your home office, but you had a five-year-old to put to bed on time, so you had started on that without him.

Woobin clambered up into his place in the middle of the mattress first, and you lifted up the comforter and blankets to slip in next to him. With the thoughts of his nightmare still weighing heavily on your heart, you called out to him quietly, “Binnie? Can Mommy cuddle with you?”

“Of course, Mommy!” He chirped, immediately taking it upon himself to scramble over to you under the covers and wrap himself around your middle like a koala.

You laughed, enveloping him in your arms to hold him to you even tighter. Pressing a long kiss to the top of his head, you then tucked him under your chin. Yeah, this was exactly what you needed. You had his next appointments set up with Dr. Kwon, and she hadn’t told you to change anything you were doing yet. So tomorrow you’d continue your new routine of bringing your son to campus with you and passing him between you and Sungchan—usually whoever was in office hours had him, or if you were both in a class, whoever had the smaller class. You had tried dropping him off at your parents’ house once, but as soon as he realized that you were leaving without him, he wouldn’t let go of your leg, his eyes started watering, and you immediately folded. Preschool was a no-go, as he had a soft, indefinite ban for the foreseeable future until he was no longer going to be a disruption. They were continuing to hold his spot at no charge to you, at least. It had been stressful, and there hadn’t been very long stretches of time in the past two weeks where you had been apart from him, but there wasn’t once where you ever felt resentful towards your son himself, you realized. He’s what you did this all for.

“I love you, Binnie,” you murmured, kissing his hair again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Mommy,” Woobin mumbled back sleepily, his words punctuated by a yawn.

You smiled fondly, listening as the sounds of his breathing evened out as he drifted off to sleep. Not much later, and your bedroom door slowly creaked open. Sungchan quietly went about his own nighttime routine before finally shutting the bathroom light off and closing the door behind him. You were a little confused when he walked over to your side of the bed, though, thinking your son’s sippy cup that was sitting there might’ve needed a last-minute refill. Then you felt him raise the sheets and start squeezing himself in behind you.

“You’re going to fall off, Channie,” you whispered, trying to bite back the giggles bubbling up in your chest.

“Then make some room, baby,” he responded, his quiet words even more hushed by the fact that he was pressing his face into your shoulder as he readjusted.

You gently scooted further in on the bed, trying to jostle the child attached to you as little as possible, not wanting to wake him so soon after he’d fallen asleep—if he woke up now, he’d definitely be awake for another three hours at least. Sungchan scooched with you, molding himself around you after you’d gotten settled in again, and burying his face in the back of your neck. He slung an arm over your waist, his hand finding one of yours where it was resting on Woobin’s back, slotting his fingers with yours.

After some time, when you were sure your son was deep asleep, Sungchan spoke again, “I had a student ask me what death of the author is.”

You craned your neck to try to look at his face out of the corner of your eye. “In your bio class?”

“Yeah, I thought it was weird too.”

“Are they… in one of my classes? And thought that you would know because we’re married? And knew that we’re married?” Obviously there were pictures of you, Sungchan, and your son in his office, but since classrooms and labs were shared spaces at the university, professors didn’t decorate or keep personal belongings in there. The average Intro to Bio student wouldn’t have any reason to know that you and Sungchan were married just from attending lecture.

“That was my first thought, too. Turns out he had you last semester.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “Then why…?”

“Apparently, in your class, he met this cute Lang major, but she didn’t seem too impressed with him. Thinks he’s a dumb jock.” Sungchan’s chest vibrated with his chuckle.

“Because he doesn’t know what death of the author is? Is he failing your bio class, perchance?”

“No.”

“Did she actually tell him she thought he was a dumb jock, or is he just assuming?” You asked pointedly.

“He seemed pretty convinced.” Your husband grinned and nudged you with his shoulder. “Sound familiar?”

“What are you—Oh my god, you think that sounds like us?” You rolled your eyes. “I did not think you were a dumb jock! I just… didn’t think about you really at all.”

“Ouch.” His pout was still very visible in the dim light of your bedroom.

“Not my fault you opted to pine for three years like a loser instead of talking to me.”

“Words hurt, you know.”

You shook your head. “So were you able to tell him what death of the author is?”

“No. But he’s apparently trying to read along from your Brit Lit I syllabus.”

“So that’s why you knew Bisclavret the other day. He won’t get very far on his own, even translated, Old English can be pretty awkward to get through,” you warned.

“Yeah… So do you have any study guides?” He batted his eyelashes at you, and you once again rolled your eyes.

“Seriously? You should tell him to talk to her like a person. He won’t get anywhere if he’s constantly thinking of both of them one-dimensionally. Him as the dumb jock, and her as the smart Lang major,” you scoffed. “Sound familiar?”

“That’s a no on the study guide?”

“The Internet exists. And you didn’t get me by making me swoon over your knowledge of Breton lais.”

“True.” He clicked his tongue in the back of his mouth. “I’ll ask him if she has any chronic illnesses to tend to.”

“You didn’t stay with me during the Halloween party as some elaborate scheme to get me to date you. At that point, you still thought you were friendzoned. If my memory serves me.” You pointed out.

He yawned and nuzzled his cheek against your shoulder. “Perhaps…”

“You stayed with me because you’re a good, sweet guy, always have been,” you continued, taking your hand that he had been holding back to reach behind you and poke his leg. “That’s how you got me.”

“Aw, you still know how to my heart flutter, baby. Even after fifteen years.”

You smiled to yourself as he kissed your shoulder. “Yeah, you’re easy.”

“And still know how to wound me with so few words.”

“I love you, too, Channie,” you chuckled softly, taking his hand again under the covers.

“Only this easy for my girl.” He murmured, dropping another kiss to your shoulder. “Love of my life.” Another kiss, this one on your cheek. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“We’re already married,” you said humorously, wiggling your entwined left hands pointedly.

“So? I can only talk about spending the rest of our lives together before we sign the marriage papers? Can’t do it while we’re actually living that life together and raising our son?”

“Well when you put it like that…” You turned your head to catch his lips with yours in a soft, sweet kiss.

Sungchan hummed into the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth when you pulled away.

“I love you, my Sungchannie,” you professed as you’d done thousands of times before, each time thinking that you could never be more in love with this man than you were in that moment, and yet each time it felt like your love had only grown exponentially since the last time you said it.

“I love you too. My girl,” he replied, resting his forehead against yours. You didn’t need him to speak to know what he was thinking. The two of you were going to get through this. Even though right now, you don’t know exactly how, you would.

➠ series masterlist | blog masterlist

[nitedulalaruata]

oKay, so I might be only slightly insane, but there's enough unmedicated ADHD in me to make this a reality. Enjoy?

This is an edit of @hareofhrair's Cake Song video, which was based on a post by @reliqvia. please forgive me for some jankiness in the editing I had so many technical issues and ended up doing this on my laptop with 4GB RAM ._.

More info on how I made this under the cut:

So first of all I grabbed the lyrics from OPs video (slightly altered to fit the actual audio):

Beautiful women will be like "I baked a cake!" And you'll ask "Oh? What flavor is it?" And they'll say, well…

It's a honey lemon fig persimmon orange blossom sponge cake soaked in elder flower mint reduction champagne lipgloss in conjunction with an almond anise chocolate lattice saffron soufflé earl grey syrup balanced by scallions simmered in a coffee carob spear mint julep swiftly snipped and shipped round trip and kissed by only kosher lips and whipped with rich amalfi lemon foraged from the fields of heaven just a hint of limoncello parsnip poppy and tangelo arsenic olive steeped in aloe sous vide in a vegan jack fruit tallow lemon thyme lemon balm matcha wine hearts of palm fetta and nettle petal fresh with a fennel frond beurre blanc and beurre monté served burning on blancmange ensconced in: cream cheese goat cheese blue cheese brie cheese head cheese soil swimmin in a ribbon of my liminally limited extra virgin olive oil

(GET SCONED?)

Whipped chantilly meringue frosting please stop me if this gets exhausting bergamot and apricot and almond anise cardamom And seven swans! A golden ring! Lords are leaping! Here's the thing! It's topped with poppies picked in Oz~* Sugar gauze and puppy paws all sourced sustainably because it was a gift from Santa Claus

I juiced the moon for blue moon goo! And killed a cop for mountain dew! I fucked with space time yeah it's true And found out what those photons do I stole Schrödinger's cat so you could have this cake and eat! it! too!

And you're like Ok. I want to spend the rest of my afternoons walking around inside your beautiful mind like a garden.

Cake break down

Then I broke the lyrics down into the different cake parts, which was difficult as the lack of punctuation allows for multiple different readings on how exactly the ingredients are combined. After a bit of rearranging I ended up with this list and constructed a rough sketch from it (for the final product I again shuffled some of the planned stuff in the picture, but this is the gist):

Some of the ingredients are inedible or have an ambigous meaning (this is complicated by English being my second language and some words can be translated in multiple ways) or are .. uh .. hard to source (side eye to difficult trade relations with Heaven and Oz), so I swapped them out for ingredients that are safe for consumption and available to me.

Recipes

Some things I've made before and already had working recipes for - for most things though I had to look up recipes. I think it goes without saying that I had to alter the recipes HEAVILY, but the base recipes were:

Sponge Cake: https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/sponge-cake-recipe/

Soufflé: https://eggs.ca/recipes/basic-souffle/

Mint Julep: https://iba-world.com/iba-cocktail/mint-julep/

Blancmange: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1018142-blancmange

Beurre blanc: https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/246931/chef-johns-beurre-blanc/

Beurre monté: https://www.americastestkitchen.com/articles/7939-how-to-make-beurre-mont%C3%A9-

Meringue Frosting: https://www.howtocookthat.net/public_html/best-frosting-recipes/

(only used recipes in English for reader's convenience and reader's convenience only)

From the lyrics and the recipes I gathered the strangest (and most expensive) shopping list I ever made.

Figuring out the Fire Situation

As noted in the cake break down, the burning beurre on blancmange would be swimming in olive oil. Which - as I'm sure you can imagine - is not ideal for fire safety. First I thought about separating the blancmange from the oil underneath by some aluminum foil, but there's still the fact that I'd have a burning liquid on the tippy top of a cake. I'm not even sure if the beurre has a high enough percentage of fat to catch flame, but burning butter on a cake decorated with flammable things like fondant, flowers and almond flakes is uh … not great. And I'm not prepared to burn down my kitchen for a shitpost, so kiddie version it is: boring old cake candles far away from flammable stuff but actually they're cool because they glitter

(My kitchen has a fire blanket, just in case anything would go wrong. QUICK PSA: If you don't have some kind of fire safety stuff in your kitchen, please get at least a fire blanket. They're cheap and can save your life (and your kitchen) in case you get flames.)

Preparations

After the planning phase I grabbed the biggest bags I have and went to the biggest store in my area, fingers crossed that I'd be able to get every ingredient on my list.

Well. It's a scroll.

🫠 (honestly my estimate was around 180€, so yay?)

BUt at least I got almost everything!

*cough cough* if you wanna throw a Euro or two at me to help compensate for this grocery bill you can do so via my kofi

Baked the sponge cakes and prepared the "lipgloss", horrible syrup™️, scallions in julep, and blancmange, before calling it a day and falling into bed exhaustedly.

Assembly

Next day I sous vide'd the olive for the "tallow", made the swans and the chantilly and assembled the various remaining parts. Then meringue frosting and decorating, while beurre blanc and buerre monté simmered along. Multitasking babyy!

Then, finally, the cake is done and I can light the candles to bring everything together:

Video

During all of this ordeal I took a bajillion progress shots and some extra photos. I never used a video editor or made an animation in my life before AND MY COMPUTER DECIDED TO RANDOMLY FORCE ME TO RESET IT BECAUSE APPARANTLY MY 15 YEAR OLD PHOTOSHOP VERSION CAUSED IT TO CRASH REALLY BADLY (curse be upon ye, Windows 11 and Adobe!), so my learning curve was steep, but I had the combined power of great stubbornness and multiple energy drinks on my side.

Every picture that is not otherwise credited to someone else was made by me. The background for the "space and time" part is a crochet work I made, following the Arcanoweave pattern by Julia Hart of Draiguna.

The final product took a total of 10 days to make: one for planning, two for shopping and baking and making the damn thing, one for extra shots, and six for editing the video (including two whole days of troubleshooting the tech issue).

Taste Test

Bottom half: Sponge cake and cream were fine (not surprising as those are the most regular cake ingredients in this abomination), but I got a cardamom pod in the same bite, which was not as pleasant. Next bite: the parsnip-poppy-grapefruit jello is a bit unusal but ok. Next bite: jackfruit and olive. I actually spit that one out. Bwah.

Top half: Sponge cake and cream again, fine. Next bite: blancmange - grainy (as detailed below), the milky almond taste is okay, but I think I've overdone it with the cardamom. The beurres were okay with it too (I mean it's just butter, what can go wrong with that?). Next bite: The cheeses were an unexpected savory flavor, but the cream cheese with a bit of blancmange and sponge cake was actually nice (no surprise again, as cream cheese is also a normal cake ingredient).

Decoration: Did not eat the flowers (obviously). Cotton candy and chocolate were tasty (obviously), the apricots were fine I guess? I'm not a big fan of (dried) apricots, so *shrug*

Overall: Some great things in there - but also some truly horrible stuff. Looks very pretty though, 5/10

Detailed version of the individual parts

Honey lemon fig persimmon orange blossom sponge cake

Easy peasy: base recipe for sponge cake, add some honey and lemon peel and figs (and no persimmon as SOMEHOW the store didn't have any? (usually they do), also no orange blossom) to the batter, be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of batter and scramble to find enough cake tins for it all, then have a minor meltdown as you realise mid-baking you've set the oven to the wrong temperature and try to save your 7 eggs worth of cake by encasing it in foil, while cursing heavily because you just burned your arm on the oven door, and be glad that in the end the cakes came out only slightly over- and undercooked simultaneously.

Elder flower mint reduction champagne lipgloss

Uh elder flowers are not available on their own, so elder flower tea it is. Throw in some mint and reduce. Then mix the elder flower mint reduction and champagne (I'm not rich, so sparkling white wine it is) and make lipgloss out of that. Well, edible lipgloss is not a thing (or you know, there are dubious listings on various websites that claim otherwise but usually lipgloss contains stuff you shouldn't ingest in great quantities), but oils are a big part of their base, so we'll just throw in some coconut oil to give it a more creamy consistency.

Almond anise chocolate lattice saffron soufflé earl grey syrup

First I made saffron soufflé (first time I made soufflé and I feel lied to by all the people saying soufflés are hard to make - it was really easy). Then I tempered dark chocolate to make some chocolate lattices (free hand - I had already cleaned so many dirty bowls and tools just to use them again right away, I really was not in the mood to clean more chocolate tools than neccessary). While soufflé and chocolate were cooling, I threw some almonds and anis into a pan to toast. Added some water and an earl grey tea bag and let it steep. Removed the tea bag after a couple of minutes, cut out a cute shape from the soufflé to marry to its chocolate lattice …aaand ruined it immediately by putting it into the horrible abomination in the pan. Stir stir stir and shred in a mixer, strain the mixture through a sieve while trying not to puke from the smell. Reduce this liquid down and add sugar to make the worst sirup in history.

Scallions simmered in a coffee carob spear mint julep

Another easy thing: Pour hot water over some instant coffee and carob powder in a cup. Crush some mint with sugar and a little bit of water, fill with bourbon. Mix both drinks in a pot and add chopped scallions. Let simmer for a couple minutes, done.

(The scallions were super fresh so I assume they were swiftly snipped and shipped round trip. But I don't know anything about kosher etiquette, so I did not kiss the scallions just to be sure)

Whipped with rich amalfi lemon foraged from the fields of heaven

The lyrics say: "… [horrible] syrup, balanced by scallions … whipped with … [lemon]", so I made lemon sirup (from counterfeit lemons as I'm a dirty atheist) and combined those three things into a creamy sauce. (Had to add some whipped cream or it would have been too runny)

Just a hint of limoncello parsnip poppy and tangelo

There's no specific serving form given for those ingredients so I took it to mean those things can be present in any form. I chose to finely chop the parsnip and put it together with poppy seeds into a sheet made of a gelatinized mix of limoncello and grapefruit juice (no tangelo available to me - but it's a hybrid of grapefruit and mandarin orange, so that's close enough).

Arsenic olive steeped in aloe sous vide in vegan jack fruit tallow

Ah, another thing that is not advised for human consumption. Of course I'm talking about the olive (singular?), not arsenic :P (please, this is a joke, DO NOT eat arsenic). Forgot to buy aloe, so I sous vide'd the single (non arsenic) olive. Vegan tallow is an oxymoron - but "vegan [thing]" is often used to describe something made of vegan stuff that has similar properties to [thing], so no problem here. Just puree the jack fruit and place the olive in there.

Can I just say that all the websites that told me "jackfruit has a neutral taste" were lying. Jackfruit is the worst thing I ever smelled and tasted - even worse than the horrible syrup I just made - and while I am open to trying vegan alternatives any day, this can of jackfruit was the only ingredient that I just threw away after making this cake instead of using it up, because ugh. no.

Lemon thyme lemon balm matcha wine hearts of palm Fetta and nettle petal fresh with a fennel frond

Again, no specific form, though they could be served on the blancmange together with the beurres, but there's only so much that I can put onto a fragile pudding shape before it collapses. Better idea: chop what can be chopped and soak in what can soak, then sprinkle in between the cake layers. Substitutions made: Lemon thyme -> regular thyme, lemon balm -> lemon balm tea, matcha -> NOT FOUND, hearts of palm -> NOT FOUND, nettle petal fresh -> nettle petal not fresh (tea)

Beurre blanc and beurre monté served burning on blancmange

As the recipe for beurre blanc states, it can't be reheated so I saved the beurres for assembly day. Blancmange though needs fridge time, so: followed the recipe, got really frustrated with american measuring units (I have a set of measuring cups / spoons, but guys, that's extra stuff I have to CLEAN. Just use a scale, for god's sake), and it turned out grainy because I don't own a cheese cloth but that's fine with me. Beurre blanc and buerre monté were easy enough, just followed the recipe (in american units. hmpf.)

Ensconced in: cream cheese, goat cheese, blue cheese, brie cheese, head cheese, soil

It's just a list of (mostly) cheeses, nothing special here. I made the "soil" out of oreo non-denominational cocoa cookies.

Swimmin in a ribbon of my liminally limited extra virgin olive oil

Just plain old olive oil. It wasn't a limited edition, which makes it liminally limited indeed.

Whipped chantilly meringue frosting

Decided that this meant that both chantilly and meringue were used (not a combination of both). So whipped chantilly (which is just cream with sugar, but I added a stabilizer to make it more - well - stable as it is a load bearing part of the cake) for the inside, and meringue frosting for the outside it is. Number of times I made sirup in the past two days: 3 - new personal record.

Bergamot and apricot and almond anise cardamom

Another case of no specified serving form, but it comes after the frosting, so I assume these are toppings. Bergamot orange was not available, and I learned only after the fact that apparently in France (?) this can also refer to limes (?), but I did find some bergamot lemonade. Soaked the apricots in it before they went onto the cake, and sprinkled some almond flakes and the spices onto it too.

And seven swans!

Yay some sculpting! Swans are easy to make out of fondant: Just roll a ball, then squish it into a somewhat elongated scallot form with a point to form the tail. Make a snake and place it at the dull end of your scallot, then bend it into the typical swan neck pose. Now squish the end of the head to form its beak. Some food coloring for the eyes and beak and we're done! For assembly purposes I staked them - otherwise the moisture from the blancmange would dissolve the fondant.

Can you tell I did not look up how exactly swans look like before making these? Eh, geese should be fine for this cake, too ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A golden ring!

Those come premade:

It's topped with poppies picked in Oz

I really tried to find poppies, but somehow you can't buy them anywhere?? Even though they are pretty flowers? After store number three I gave up looking and just bought a plant that had the most similar flowers. Obviously this means that they are not from Oz either… (I lied to you in the video- shame on me)

(also: I'm living in a city. If I had been visiting my parents' house in the countryside, I'd have plenty of wild poppies, but alas… (not driving 2h just for accurate cake decoration))

Sugar gauze and puppy paws

Sugar gauze? Not quite sure what that is, but I figured that cotton candy would be close enough? And while "puppy paws" is not a name for cookies, Bärentatzen or Katzenpfoten ("bear paws" or "cat paws") are a thing here. Unfortunately the store didn't have any (outrageous, I know), so I opted for Katzenzungen ("cat tongues") instead (no way I'd do more baking for this thing). Cat tongues are close enough to puppy paws, right?

Blue moon goo

Next blue moon is still far away, so I just used "blue" as a color descriptor for the goo - blue curaçao is the obvious choice here.

Mountain dew

While mountain dew is available here I didn't find it at the store, so for the visual I used some green Fanta. (I thiiink I tried mountain dew once and didn't like it anyway, so it was better that way)

Schrödinger's cat

Guest appearance: My precious kitty baby meow meow (she's 19)

Outtakes

My fridge has never been this full, let alone so full with useless items:

Almost everything in this picture went into the cake.

And kitty apparently wanted in on the space time fuck:

There was like one (1) frame in a whole two minute video that I could use, the rest was just kitty taking the spotlight.

[dms-saggicorn]

Elias please stop breaking the 4th wall and threatening me again

I couldn't finish the drawing I had planning today so can you hold this bomb for me for a second byee

[nnovus]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ━━ S.TODOROKI X READER

SYNOPSIS… In which, Shoto Todoroki youngest son of pro hero Endeavour is forced into an arranged marriage with the daughter of Pro hero/ clan leader, Tajima Uchiha.

INFO… Todorokixreader , ShotoTodoroki x sasuke/madarareader, mhaxnaruto, crossover, OC!!reader, OP!Reader, arranged marriage, slightly angst, character development, uchihaclan, readers looks and personality are based off madara/sasuke uchiha.

OTHER…likes and reblogs are appreciated

MASTERLIST

THE SPORTS FESTIVAL WAS GETTING CLOSER BY THE SECOND ━━━ As the class 1A students now had their bags packed to go home it seemed they ran into trouble.

At Class 1-A. Uraraka, Midoriya, and Iida stood near the door to their classroom wanting to leave but it seemed their way was blocked by many other students from different home rooms.

“Wh-What’s going on?!” Uraraka asked, unsure of why so much students were blocking their classes exit door. It was quite threatening actually.

“Do you students have some type of business with our class?” Iida questioned. He sounded rather mature and calm.

The crowd only kept getting larger. Causing the students of class 1A to be left unsure of how to deal with this. It was definitely not what they expected after a long day of school.

“Why are you blocking our doorway?? I won’t let you hold us hostage!!!” Mineta ran from behind and stood next to Midoriya. The short make then lifting his fist and yelling at the much taller students. To be honest, Not many even were able to see him due to his height.

“They’re scouting out the competition, idiot. We’re the class that survived a real villain attack. They wanna see us with their own eyes.” Bakugou explained walking directly towards where the crowd was despite the disagreements and worries of his classmates.

They knew his hot-tempered personality would only drag their class down in being liked. In fact they were now stressing and panicking about what he was going to say now.

“Atleast now you know what a future pro looks like. Now move it extras.” Bakugou scrawled, not caring about the gasps that came from his classmates and the scolding that came from Iida.

“So this is class 1A, I heard you guys were impressive. But, you just sound like an ass.” A tall male with messy, spiked up indigo hair said walking from the back of crowd to pause his movement directly in front of Bakugou.”

“Is everyone in the hero course delusional or is it just you?” He sarcastically asked making Bakugou even more irritated.

“How sad to come here and find a bunch of ego maniacs. I wanted to be in the hero course but like many others hero I was forced to chose a different path, such as life.” The indigo hair coloured male only continued not bothered by the fact Bakugou looked like he was about to explode any second now.

“I didn’t cut it the first time around, but I have another chance.” He added, feeling the confused stares from everyone around him.

“If any one of us do well in the sports festival, they teachers can decide to transfer us to the hero course, and of course they’ll have to transfer people out to make room.” When the male had said that a shift of pressure had been put on most of the hero courses students. Could that really happen to them?

“Scouting the competition?? Maybe some of my peers are. But I’m here to let you know that if you don’t bring your very best I’ll steal your spot from right under you.” He paused for a second, breaking heavy eye contact with Bakugou, turning his eyes to the left of the classroom.

Only then did he see her…She was facing his way though due to the bandage that covered her face it was hard to see the exact place she was looking.

She wasn’t even moving yet she had such an elegant and formidable presence. Her appearance matched her presence quite well as it was striking and intimidating.

Her hair and face was quite unique as well. Her hair was long, spiky, dark with a tint of dark blue. Typically falling just past her waist with a significant amount of volume mainly due to the spikes. The spikes and layers only made her silhouette instantly recognisable.

Her face was relatively pale, which contrasts sharply with her dark hair and eyes. Enhancing the dramatic quality of her appearance.

He soon snapped himself back to reality after realising he dozed off while staring at the girl. Speaking of the girl it finally came to him. Who she was.

Y/N of the Uchiha clan. A honourable, talented genius first child of the main family. He had heard about her on school grounds. Not that rumours about her were big but he had definitely heard them.

He then turned his head away from her realising he had been looking for too long. Putting his focus back on Bakugou and the rest of class 1A.

“Consider this a declaration of war.” He said. Watching the students in the hero course freak out wondering who the hell is this guy who had just threatened them.

“Hey, hey, hey!!I’m from Class B next door!I heard you fought against villains, so I came to hear about it! Don’t get full of yourself!!” Another bold person shouted from the crowd.

He had with chin-length, messy gray hair, and black eyes that are tilted dramatically inwards, each lined with a very thick, jagged, tan-colored substance, presumably his eyelashes.

He doesn’t appear to have any notable eyebrows, and, like Eijiro Kirishima, he has rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

“If you bark too much, it’ll be embarrassing for you during the real fight!” He angrily yelled. It was clear that many students have started to hate class 1A due to Bakugou.

Y/N who watched from afar only sighed. She then silently made her way to the crowd stopping in front of it. Specifically right next to Bakugou as their whispers only grew louder.

‘Wow Uchiha, really has a presence’ Midoriya thought while watching that no one even dared to speak ill to her. She definitely shushed the crowd. They now only stood in front of their doorway blushing and too intimidated to speak.

Y/N not bothering to say anything only began to walk away. Making her way through the gap of the crowd.

“I presume your Y/N Uchiha??” The same Indigo haired boy who had threatened the hero course students said earning the attention of the dark haired girl.

He turned his head to the right seeing the Uchiha’s back was facing at him. Only turning her head to give him a view of face’s side profile.

“Your genes are quite strong, I knew you were an Uchiha when I first saw you.” He added. Then rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Your name?” Y/N asked,eyebrows raising.The attention of the crowd was drawn onto her and the indigo haired male.

“Hitoshi Shinso.” He smirked. Although to everyone’s surprise she didn’t care to say anything back, only turning her head back and continuing to walk away.

It didn’t take long for Bakugou to do the same as he made his way through the crowd.

“You ignoring me, bastard?!” The grey haired male called out shouting at Bakugou. Hating the fact he spoke so highly of himself and his strength.

“Wait a minute, Bakugou!What are you gonna do about all this? It’s your fault that everyone is hating on us!” Kirishima called out

“It doesn’t matter…the only thing that’s important is beating them.” He said. It was clear he was pushing himself. The way he showed no emotions and kept his serious expression proved he was going to do anything just to win.

“I hate that, that was such a manly exit.” Kirishima cried clenching his fist not wanting to cheer on Bakugou’s behaviour but still not denying that he what he said was infact true.

“You said it.” Satou agreed. Watching Bakugou confidently walk away despite the complaints of a few other hero course students.

“To beat them, huh? There is truth in that.” Tokoyami nodded. He also did find Bakugou’s exit quite cool.

“Huh!? Hang on, don’t be tricked! He just made more pointless enemies!” Kaminari panicked. He only sweated at the angry blonde now knowing everyone in class 1A would be put at a disadvantage.

After Bakugou and Uchiha’s exit it seemed other of their classmates seemed to follow behind them not finding a need to stay in any longer despite the crowd.

The UA sports festival was now officially coming up in two weeks time. The whole thing being recorded live on TV for everyone.

There’s no doubt that whoever impresses the audience, will have a much better chance at becoming a pro hero one day.

No one but the teachers and directors of the event will know what the challenges will be until the day of the festival. So they indeed have to prepare for all possibilities.

Days then past. Their training seemed to be harder than expected, with all the training they have done it had indeed made time go by quickly. Before they knew it, it was the morning of the festival.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/N was now found herself walking to school. Before hearing voices of another crowd that seemed to be surrounding UA’s gates. From the sounds of it, they were all definitely media reporters.

“The security line is huge what’s the deal??” A reporter sighed. She was now while being at the back of the line complaining to her partner who carried the camera.

“A bunch of villains did just break in, of course the school is being cautious this year. Some people think there shouldn’t even be a festival.” He replied making the reporters eyes beam.

“Perfect!! Nothing brings ratings up like a little controversy. Plus everyone will tune in to see class 1A!!” She smiled as a manically laugh left her mouth.

Although their conversation was the first one that Y/N had heard it definitely wasn’t the last. Her curiosity raised while heard none other than her fiancée’s name as well as hers being mentioned.

“Hey, did you hear endeavours son is one of the first year students. Tajima Uchiha’s daughter too!!” A different woman gossiped. Clearly having no care in the world about who heard her.

“No way!! Endeavour’s son and An Uchiha seriously. Man, the stance for the first years are gonna be packed!!” The man beside her only gave in to her gossip causing more annoyance to reach Y/N’s mind.

‘Tch’ She muttered. Then only ignoring the crowd and making her way to the participant waiting room where the rest of her class most likely was.

She was currently dressed in her sports uniform like instructed. It was to make sure the was kept game fair as no one would be put at a disadvantage.

Although for class 1A their disadvantage was definitely Bakugou’s speech from two weeks ago. Many other students refused to forget about that.

Exactly why their class was not only being targeted by the crowd but as well as other students.

Now finally making it to the waiting room she opened the door to see her class just like expected as everyone was stretching or just mentally preparing themselves.

“Aw man!! I was totally hoping I could wear my costume— Oh UCHIHA!!” Ashido called out her mind and tone of voice completely changing when seeing her the dark haired girl enter the room.

Y/N walked towards the girl with pink hair and skin. Taking a seat on one of the chairs that were assigned in front of the waiting tables.

“Atleast everyone will be in uniforms. That’ll keep things fair right?” Ojiro replied to Ashido before turning and waving to the sitting girl behind them.

Although he soon faceplamed himself realising the fact she wasn’t even able to see him. Due to the bandages that still covered her eyes.

“Oh Uchiha, your bandages still aren’t off…” He muttered due to the fact he wasn’t that close to Y/N. Indeed they’ve spoken many times before but it was never an exact conversation.

It was usually him just adding in a few words in other peoples conversations. But forgetting although her eyesight was restricted. They all had no doubt she would do well.

There last two weeks of training made them certain of it. They’ve seen that although she was injured she still a crazy strong opponent to have.

“I wonder what they have in store for us in the first round.” Satou smiled trying to hide his panic. Wondering if he would make a good impression on the scouters.

“No matter what they prepared, we must persevere.” Tokoyami reassured. Although from the looks of it, it wasn’t that much of a help.

“Everyone get your game faces on. We’re entering the arena soon.” Iida opened the door and shouted. Making sure everyone was prepared for their upcoming entrance.

“Midoriya..” Todoroki called out Midoriya’s name earning everyone’s attention including his fiancé. All attention was now drawn onto the two.

It was said that Todoroki was walking towards Midoriya, while the green haired male only stood in a hidden panic.

“Oh, hey Todoroki.. what’s up?” He asked staring at his taller figure. He seemed more serious than usual which made Midoriya concerned of what he needed.

“From an objective standpoint, I think it’s fairly clear that I’m stronger than you.” Todoroki said as Midoriya only confusingly agreed.

“However you have All Might in your corner helping you out. I’m not here to pry about what’s going on between you too. But know that I will beat you.” Todoroki finished not failing to notice the sudden shift In Midoriya’s nature when both him and All Might were mentioned in the same sentence.

So Todoroki had realised it too. Y/N only kept staring at Todoroki’s through her bandages. It seemed her and Todoroki were on the same page after all.

“You aswell, Uchiha. I hope you know I plan on beating you.” He said Turning to Y/N. Her eyes widened upon hearing Todoroki’s words.

Although to everyone’s surprise a confident smirk was seen on her lips. Her head rested on her fist as her elbow pressed against the table. One of her legs over the other.

“Well let’s hope it’s not hand to hand combat, I’m sure both us know who will win with that..” Y/N replied to him. Her words confused others in the room but to Todoroki, he understood it too well.

“Wow, what’s with all these declarations of war lately.” Kaminari sweated seeing the weird Tension between Todoroki and Y/N. Not to mention her cunning smirk made him feel kinda small.

“Yeah what’s the big deal why you picking a fight all of a sudden. And right before we even started.” Kirishima added getting up from his seat and walking towards Todoroki.

Kirishima placed one of his hands on Todoroki’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. In return Todoroki only pushed Kirishima’s hand off him.

“We’re not here to play at being friends.” Todoroki said to Kirishima leaving the red haired boy confused as Todoroki walks off before pausing once again when hearing Midoriya’s voice.

“Todoroki, I don’t know what you’re thinking when you say you’ll beat me, but of course you’re better than me.” The green haired boy said though it was hard to tell what he meant by his words.

“Infact you probably have way more potential than anyone in the hero course, that’s why you got so easily.” He added though it was clear that Todoroki was way too eager on beating him to actually care what he had to say.

“Midoriya, you probably shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, or us..” Kirishima gave him an awkward smile trying to assure him that it’s best not to be so negative on himself.

“No, his right… all the other courses are coming for us with everything they’ve got! We all have to fight to stand out..” Although his words were confusing to make much sense of, they did differently come from the heart.

“So, I’ll be aiming to the top too.” He finished. Midoriya seemed to have stood his ground, his heart pounding with unwavering resolve.

Todoroki then turns to face Midoriya. He didn’t seem impressed. He knew many others were desperate and determined to win, either for personal glory or recognition.

But for Todoroki, he didn’t seem to care. All that mattered to him was proving himself and finally breaking free from his father’s expectations. Which meant winning the festival would validate his abilities and allow him to step out of endeavours influence.

“Fine.” Todoroki replied to Midoriya. He didn’t have anything else to say and didn’t need anything more. Not to mention it was officially time for the students to enter the arena.

Meanwhile In the sports arena loud cheers were heard coming from the crowd that surrounded the stadium. As Present Mic appears on the screen. He seemed to be the one commentating this year’s sports festival.

“Hey! Make some noise, audience! Get those camera’s ready, mass media!” Present Mic started. He showed excellent enthusiasm meanwhile Mr Aizawa who sat next to him only seemed to be tired of his shenanigans.

“This year’s high school rodeo of adolescence that you all love, the U.A. sports festival, is about to begin! I’ve only got one question before we start this show, are you ready?!” He asked the crowd, as more cheers were given.

“Let me hear you scream, As the students finally enter the first-year stage!” He said, while all eleven first year classes walked out, onto the field. The first year classes which were involved included the hero course, general studies, support and business.

Although all students were spread around the field it wasn’t hard to tell, that everyone was not a fan of the hero course students.

Many general study and business students were talking about how they were supposedly only there ‘to make the hero course look better’.

There whispers only got louder when all students were now lined up in the field waiting for the players pledge to be announced.

“Now, the introductory speech!!” This year’s chief umpire for the first-years called out, it seemed to be none other than the R-Rated Hero, Midnight?

Many of the crowd only blushed at her inappropriate hero costume while shifting their weight from side to side.

“uh, someone should talk to Ms. Midnight about what’s she’s wearing..” Kirishima muttered starching the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed into a blossom pink. Not wanting to look at the R-rated hero to make sure he stayed respectful.

“Yeah that costume should come with a warning” Kaminari agreed with the sharp teethed boy beside him.

“Is that really appropriate apparel for a high school game??” Tokoyami asked, watching Mineta’s reaction as he confidently cheered at the women’s costume.

“Quiet, everyone! Representing the students is Katsuki Bakugou from Class 1-A!!” She introduced. Many seemed to be shocked to find out that ‘Bakugou Katsuki’ out of all people was the first year representative.

They all watched him walk to the front, heavily interested on what he was about to say. Many of his classmates hoped he wouldn’t say anything that might cause more hatred towards them. But knowing Bakugou, that was unlikely.

“What? He is the first year rep?!” Midoriya gulped. It was obvious that out of everyone, Either Bakugou or Mineta was least suitable for this.

“Guess that hothead did finish first in the entrance test.” Sero said. It was true that without counting recommendations students such as Shoto Todoroki, Y/N Uchiha , Momo Yaoyorozu, Juzo Honenuki and Setsuna Tokage. Bakugou was then indeed the top scorer.

“Haah… In the hero course exams.” A brown haired girl from general studies corrected them. She rolled her eyes at them before turning back to Shinso and another male who stood by her.

“It’s obvious she hates us.” Sero whispered to Midoriya and Kaminari as the both of them nodded while still putting their attention on Bakugou.

“And we got Bakugou to blame, for them not liking our class.” Kaminari angrily added. Watching the hot tempered male walk up to the microphone. Midoriya and others could only swallow nervously. Unsure of what someone like him might say.

“I just wanna say…that I’m gonna win.” He declared. It barely took seconds before loud ‘boos’ and insults were heard coming from the other classes.

Class 1-A students only sighed they knew he would’ve said something like that. But still a small piece of them hoped that the blonde wouldn’t and that he would actually say something cheer-worthy instead.

“Why are you doing something so disrespectful!! You’re representing us all.” Iida scolded trying to ignore the fact that he didn’t seem to care about all the hate he was getting.

“Not my fault the rest of you are just stepping stones to my victory.” Bakugou rolled his eyes before slowly walking off the stage with his hands in his pocket.

“How overconfident can you get?! I’ll crush you!” The same male with grey hair from class 1B yelled out. He seemed to be the one from two weeks ago in that big crowd that covered 1A’s classroom door.

Many failed to missed it but it was clear Bakugou wasn’t being overconfident. The old Bakugou would’ve laughed while saying that making it a joke. Instead this was him pushing himself. And making everyone else into targets at the same time.

As soon as Bakugou walked off the stage the top screen’s that surrounded the arena changed images. Now showing a sentence that said ‘first game’ It was most likely that the first round would be a qualifier.

“Without further ado, it’s time for us to get started.” Midnight exclaimed. Not allowing anyone to catch a breath after the chaos that had just happened.

“This is where you begin feeling the pain. The first fateful game of the festival.” She added lifting her hand up to see a floating 3D display behind her.

The screen was large as it also showed multiple first challenges options that were rolled in order to pick what game will be chosen in the first round.

An even amount of relief and disappointment was seen coming from the students as the first game that was picked was ‘obstacle course.’

To be fair an obstacle course was a fair and easy challenge for most students for it didn’t exactly require a specific set of skills.

“All eleven classes will participate in this treacherous contest. The track is about four kilometres around the outside of the stadium.” Midnight explained as the 3D display showed image examples of what she spoke of.

“I don’t want to restrain anyone, at least in this game..so as long as you don’t leave the course you’re free to do whatever your heart desires!!” She licked her lips making the crowd cheer.

“Now then, take your places contestants.” She said watching the students line up at the starting gate, many pushing ahead to the start of the line hoping to get a lead on everyone.

A countdown was held as many were prepared to run ahead, feeling the need to get noticed by pro hero’s.

“And begin!!” Midnight shouted as students rushed ahead pushing and shoving each other.

“And we’re off to a racing start, Are you ready to do the commentary, Mummy Man?” Present Mic laughed referring to Aizawa who sat next to him still covered in bandages head to toe.

“How did you talk me into this?” He sighed already hating everything about this while the loud hero beside him only showed more and more enthusiasm with each second that went by.

“Let’s get started right away, Mummy Man! What should we pay attention to in the early stages?” Present Mic asked spinning around in his chair while the crowd cheered him on.

“The doorway.” Aizawa replied rolling his eyes. On the screen it’s shown that a bunch of students are packed into the tunnel.

Although a large amount of movement was stopped by Todoroki activating his Quirk, freezing a bunch of students in place as he runs ahead.

It’s shown that Uchiha, Aoyama, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Bakugou use their Quirks to get out of the crowd. Getting ahead of other people and catching up to Todoroki.

It seemed that Todoroki had taken the lead with Y/N only inches behind him as Bakugou yelled out to the two catching up to them by using his explosions.

“More people outside Class A were able to dodge that than I expected…” Todoroki muttered seeing a few others carefully dodge the ice.

Y/N and Todoroki were caught by surprise to see a bunch of familiar purple balls be thrown in front of them.

They turned their head in sync to see Mineta throws a bunch of his hair balls on the ice, allowing him to hop across. putting him in third place surprisingly ahead of Bakugou.

“I’ve outwitted you, Todoroki! How pathetic!” He shouted. He ignored saying anything negative to the girl who was only inches behind Todoroki.

Not that he didn’t care about her. But he wasn’t idiot enough to say something rude to a woman so beautiful and strong. Even though she was definitely way out of his league.

“Take this! My special attack! Gra—” He was interrupted. Before Mineta was even able throw his hair ball, he’s whacked by a large robot.

“The faux villains from the entrance exam?” Midoriya asked not expecting to see them again.

“Obstacles have shown up suddenly! Starting with… the first barrier! Robo Inferno!” Present Mic commented from the speakers as the students only looked at the robots surprised.

“Aren’t those the zero-point villains from the entrance exam?” Kaminari cautioned. He stopped in his tracks to pause unsure of how to get through the robots that seemed to be meters tall.

“So this is what they used in the general entrance exam..” Y/N said. The crowd in the stadium seemed to be in awe as lightning energy seemed to be channeling around her hand.

She got in a stance ready to attack if necessary. Although she was unable to see, her senses were still extremely strong.

Meaning she understood and was able to notice everything around her body without needing to see them.

“I wonder where they got the money for it?” She asked seeing as there was about 17 Giant robots and 26 smaller ones that were still quite large.

The robots prepare to attack. Y/N’s eyebrows raised seeing Todoroki prepares to activate his Quirk. Surprisingly being faster than the Uchiha.

“If they went through all this trouble, I wish they would’ve prepared something better.Since my stupid old man is watching.” Todoroki stated, then using his Quirk make ice sheets and immobilise the robot solid. Before continuing to run forward.

It was true Y/N could’ve ran and continued but she was much smarter that. She realised something other students were too stupid to see.

“Between their legs! We can get through!” A male from another home room cheered from behind unable to notice the trap he had put out on purpose.

“Idiots.” Y/N muttered as she stood there gathering and focusing more lighting, into her hand. Since it was crucial for generating the justu’s powerful effects.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.I froze them when they were unbalanced. On purpose.” He said watching the unsteady robots collapse. Only looking back to focus Y/N who unsurprising knew all about his little trick.

He watched Y/N showcased exceptional reflexes and agility as she dodged parts of the falling robots that she had cut through using her Chidori.

Preparing for a potential counter while simultaneously dodging, using agile manoeuvres, such as rolls and quick lateral movements.

“Todoroki from Class 1-A! He attacked and defended in one hit!” Present Mic stood up from his seat praising Todoroki while the crowd chanted.

“And look Y/N Uchiha from class 1A aswell!! She dodged perfectly. And what!! She did it without being able to see!!” He added, watching the girl now move on to running forward to catch up with Todoroki.

“Amazing! They’re the ones we should watch! It’s you know, practically unfair!” He laughed. The screen was now focused on the two students allowing the crowd to get a good look at their faces and power.

“Their actions are both logical and strategic.” Eraser Head yawned. Present Mic only face palmed seeing how the long haired teacher showed no enthusiasm or energy.

“As expected from them as they both got in through recommendations! They have never fought them before, but those Robo Infernos couldn’t get past their elite moves!” Present Mic shouted into the microphone trying to save the crowd from Aizawa’s boring words.

[dunmeshistash]

Hi I have a question. I read somewhere that Senshi didn’t like Marcille and Laios because he thought Chilchuck was a child and they were exploiting him. Is this true? The OP of that post said this info came from the extra materials, but I can’t find it

Ps: I love this blog and all your answers. Truly a blessing for this fandom

Hello! Thank you! I do my best

Rather than dislike I think he was more mad at them for making a kid do dangerous jobs, the information comes from his diary which you can see at the end of the adventurer's bible!

Here's the relevant pages, he first thinks Chilchuck might be Laios' little brother and then question why he's the one checking for traps cause he thinks he's a tallman child.

"I wonder why they've assigned the dangerous task of springing traps to a child, though. It made me angry with them both, but perhaps he's an orphan with no other way to live. I won't stick my oar in."

He says he was angry at them for making a child work on something dangerous but right before he's complimenting Laios so I think he doesn't necessarily "dislike" them just questions their morals.

He is judgmental of Marcille already due to her being an elf tho

[dont-leafmealone]

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That's all I can think of for now. My askbox is open if there are any questions!

[dms-saggicorn]

Awwwww

^me to the lil cutie

surely Mychael will spend 5 days away from MC thinking about them very rationally with completely normal thoughts

I assure you he's done nothing but the most professional of in-depth research (cheesy romance novels) since then.