#she’s the best clan gramma around

[noirandchocolate]

@purpledemoncat asked me for headcanons about my Master Kohga’s Nana (also named Master Kohga as described in the linked post), so here we go.

Was her father’s third child, but her much older sister and brother were both killed before she was born. Her father was already nearly 100 years old and very much wanted his heir to be a child of his, so he remarried and had Nana (hnnngh it feels weird to call a child “gramma” but I don’t know her pre-Kohga name and probably wouldn’t post it even if I did, for reasons).

Growing up with such a much older father, who was pretty strict about training her to be Master someday, definitely influenced her personality. However, her mother (who was around 40 at the time of Nana’s birth—big age gaps don’t bother Yiga and Sheikah very much since they live longer than Hylians—look at Robbie and Jerrin) did soften her a bit.

As in, unlike Great-Granddad, sometimes Nana would let herself have fun! She not only let the Clan have festivals and parties for morale and tradition-continuing purposes, she’d join in with the dancing and drinking and game-playing! She was very good at the Yiga equivalent of Go and was fond of smoking safflina in her later years. She was also a fan of big jangly jewelry (at least to wear around the Complex). However, when it came to Clan business, Nana was no-nonsense and hard-working.

Once when Nana was around 25, she and an older cousin were coming back across the snowy Highlands after a scouting mission together that this cousin had asked to be partnered with her for. When they were almost home, this guy just casually declared that when her father died he intended to Challenge her for the Master position. She uh. Well she immediately kicked his feet out from under him, slapped a binding talisman on him, dragged him by his leg to the nearest cliff, and dangled him over it by a hand around his neck. She told him if she thought he’d be better than her for the Clan she wouldn’t be doing this. But since he’d announced his intent so smugly, as though he wanted to be Master for power, she really couldn’t allow it. Did he understand that? That he should only Challenge her if he intended to take responsibility?

Nana Ascended to become Master Kohga at 31. Nobody Challenged her! How about that!

Favorite plant-type food after bananas? Hearty radish! Favorite meat? Marinated venison tataki, specifically from deer taken on Satori Mountain (with the marinade containing apple juice from the Mountain too)!

Learned SO many powerful arcane techniques from her father and aunts and uncles. Her signature one was self-duplication, and she could make two more of herself. Full-bodied copies like we see Maz Koshia and her grandson do, not spirit-y ones like Impa’s. She’s the one who taught our Best Guy!

Current Koh’s prized demon carver was her favorite weapon too. He’s very proud to have and use it.

Nana married shortly after becoming Master Kohga but didn’t have her only son until six years later. This wasn’t for lack of trying. Nana and Granddad’s relationship was pretty intense. He was younger than her, a Blademaster, and it was one of those “we knew each other when we were kids and I didn’t pay attention to you but now suddenly I noticed you grew up hot” kinda things, ha. They were courting when she Ascended and he was her Right Hand until his death. (Before her grandson was born; he only knows of Granddad from stories.)

Wore her hair in twin poufs as seen here. And she was always a chubby gal. It hid a really strong core; as suggested by that lil’ story above she could flip big dudes over her head. Woman was 6’2” and broad and no slouch in the fighting department.

Once led a raid on Castle Town itself, back when the King before Rhoam was reigning. Which was ballsy as hell. They did it in disguise of course, and via stealth, and got away with all kinds of nice luxury stuff and plenty of rupees.

However in general, especially as she got older, Nana was less about straight-up raid attacks and more about shady dealings with Hylians willing to sell crops at low prices. Under her, the Clan got an amazing deal on rice by blackmailing a farmer near Hateno Village. She was big on playing the longer game and strategizing to improve the Clan’s well-being while not giving away its location, operatives, or anything else. Most Hylians caught up in her web of transactions had no idea they were involved with the Yiga—just as the Clan had operated for millennia, but more ambitious than ever.

Speaking of being protective of the Clan, Nana was very strict about dealing with intruders getting near Karusa Valley, especially if they disrespected the frog statues dotting the areas all around Gerudo Canyon and the Highlands, or strayed too close to the usually-magic-hidden gates leading up to the Clan's Complex. If obfuscation and gentler dissuasion didn't work on those stumbling into Clan territory, better to make sure the bodies would turn up somewhere farther away looking like something other than a vicious sickle made them. More rarely, if she was angry enough, Nana would say that a nosy group of travelers ought to be reduced to one, who could go home and remind others of the "wicked spirits" inhabiting Satori Mountain and the Highlands.

Nana was a good mother in many ways but really put a lot of pressure on her son to learn everything she knew about martial, arcane, and leadership skills. After Granddad died, Nana even chose Dad’s best friend Chisao as her Right Hand instead of him, for a few entire years, to drive home the point that she thought he ought to be taking his responsibilities as her Heir more seriously. Luckily Dad really wasn’t hurt by this—but this is a post about Nana, not him, so more stuff about him will have to wait!

By contrast, Nana absolutely doted on her grandson. Sure she was determined to also teach him as much as she could, but she was readier with the bananas than the sticks with her handsome smart talented [pre-Kohga name redacted] than she was with her son, ha. Definitely the “oh no the child came back from hanging out with gramma and now he’s hyper and knows how to be two of himself” kind of grandparent.

All in all Nana was incredibly proud to serve the Clan as its Master Kohga and did so for 65 years. She died at 96, more annoyed about it than anything because that’s really not that old for someone with Sheikah Yiga blood. Kohga was 9, his father 59. She was quite beloved by her people and left behind a legacy of relative prosperity (as in, the Clan was and is still marginalized and had all the disadvantages that came with their position outside Hyrulian society, but everyone was fed etc etc which was not always guaranteed, y’know?).

Shortly before she passed, she warned her son that although the King of the time was old and unlikely to do much against the Clan, his young son Rhoam had "the attitude of snot and a fire in his belly to prove himself. You'd best be wary of him." But that's information for another time because it's getting off topic again and this post is already very long!

So that's some stuff about Nana Master Kohga! Her grandson loves her very much and still talks to her sometimes. <3

[miracufic]

Toradora Taiga and Ryuuji Future Headcanons

I somehow spat all of these out in the span of maybe 30 minutes, so apologies for any incoherencies.

After Taiga and Ryuuji finally get officially married, Taiga eventually ends up as the head of the largest child-focused charity organization in Japan and East Asia and Ryuuji eventually decides to become a devoted and caring househusband to Taiga and their gigantic (mostly adopted) family. All of the kiddos, adopted or otherwise, get all the affection they deserve and more from Gramma Yasuko and Taiga and Ryuuji and in general are all so happy that their hearts could explode.

All of the biological Aisaka-Takasu kids inherit his distinctive eyes, much to his chagrin. He eventually gets a little less worked-up over it when the entire clan of kids gets suspended from school for fighting one day and Taiga and Ryuuji find out at the parent-teacher conference that it was because the local group of asshat bullies decided to pick on their little/older brother/sister and the clan took rather violent exception to that. Since the clan eventually gets pretty large, it usually ends up in something like a 20-to-1 deathmatch later.

Taiga’s mom becomes the clan disciplinarian. She does her best to keep them from becoming internationally infamous as violent delinquents, but since they usually have very good reasons for what they do her lectures usually end up along the lines of “next time, make sure there’s no witnesses.”

Every time one of the Aisaka-Takasu kids has a recital or play, the entire clan shows up and camps out in the back with banners and signs, including Inko.

Every time Taiga worries that she’s not devoting enough time to her massive and adoring family and/or is becoming actively neglectful of her kids like her father was Ryuuji is right there to remind her that she’s wonderful and kind and attentive and devotes all the time the kids need to them and that they love her dearly and deservedly in return. The one time he isn’t, it’s because she’s overseas to accept an award for her charity work and outreach and Ryuuji is busy packing up the kids for their flight to attend her awards ceremony. They bring the banners and signs, too.

Prospective boyfriends/girlfriends for the Aisaka-Takasu kids have to sit through an entire gauntlet of protective family members. Usually dealing with the toddlers isn’t too bad since the most they do is dribble threateningly on their clothes, but they’re usually pissing their pants by the time they get to the high schoolers and university student-age kids and the grandparents. Taiga and Ryuuji are usually just as gentle and supportive as they can be because they know their kids can be somewhat extra.

Taiga and Ryuuji tell the story of how they fell in love to their kids every Christmas. Eventually one of their adult kids just gets an anime commissioned of the entire thing in the hopes that it’ll curb their tendency to stop every minute to giggle at each other, only to find to their horror that their parents now giggle every minute and make lovey-dovey commentary every 30 seconds during the annual Christmas anime showing.

A lot of the kids that Taiga and Ryuuji adopt are the older, troublemaking, delinquent types who’ve already been thrown out of a dozen homes. Without exception, whenever one of their trouble kids runs away from home they take whatever time is necessary to hunt them down and give them a stern talking-to about how while they would love it if their kid decided to stay with them they understand how a lot of them feel like they’ve been trapped by choices people make around them and want their independence more than anything, and if they really want to they’ll support their kids for as long as they need to get on their feet by themselves, no strings attached. Usually the kids stay.

When one of the Aisaka-Takasu kids comes out of the closet, Taiga and Ryuuji throw them a massive party and make it perfectly clear that they’ll love and accept them regardless of their gender or orientation.

All the kids have to wear earplugs at night, not because Taiga and Ryuuji are especially loud during sex, but because they’re embarrassingly flirty and lovey-dovey in the bedroom and they tend to reenact the times when Ryuuji first kissed Taiga, when he proposed to her on the bridge, and when she headbutted him at their reunion at least once a week.

[ghostsinthewoods]

Chapter 8: The Mines

Mae hadn't slept well the night before. She'd been asleep for the usual ten hours, sure, but she didn't feel rested. Germ's words had been stuck in her brain. She'd tried to dismiss what he said about seeing someone at the mines, but she couldn't. Everything was swimming around in her head.

When Mae woke up from her dream about a sky filled with trees and a party filled with noise, she had already decided on going to the mines. She wasn't going to be able to sleep properly until she saw this guy herself.

Mae hurried on downstairs without logging onto messenger. Bea, Gregg, and Angus were all probably at work, so there was no point in using it to say where she was going. Besides, Mae was just heading out to take a look. They didn't need to worry.

When Mae got down to the bottom floor, she decided it would still be best to go and talk to her mom. Mae turned the corner and walked past the stairs, into the kitchen where Candy Borowski was sitting.

She wasn't reading one of her books this evening. It was a newspaper. Mae's mom had been reading newspapers a lot more lately. Mae could guess why. She was probably hoping to find some news about Aunt Molly.

It hurt to think about that, though.

"Morning, mom," Mae said as she hopped up onto the kitchen counter.

Mae's mom looked up from her paper and gave her daughter a warm smile. "Good morning, movie star," she said. "How did things go last night?"

Mae didn't know how to answer that. They hadn't done a whole lot of movie-making, after all. Mostly, they'd just wandered around in the woods and confronted the weight of their past sins.

"Kinda slow," Mae said after thinking about it a bit. "Got kinda weird after. We saw Germ with a torch in the woods."

"A… torch?" Mae's mom repeated. She barely knew who Germ was, but Mae got the feeling that even she was starting to get a good picture of Germ's weirdness. "Like, a literal torch?"

"Yup," Mae said. "The kind you use to chase Frankensteins."

"That can't be safe," Candy mused. "What if the fire spread? You could burn the whole forest down."

"Well, they'd have more space for parking lots," Mae joked.

That got a laugh out of her mom. Good. A laughing mom cheered Mae up most of the time, and this was one of those times. Her work done, Mae leaped down from the counter.

"Well, I'm heading out," Mae said. "Got some stuff I wanna check out."

"Check out, eh?" Mae's mom asked curiously. "Ooh, is this good news? How's the job hunt going?"

Oh, God. The job hunt. Mae had promised her mom she'd start looking for a job. She'd completely forgotten after everything with the Dream Casey had started up. All in all, Mae had applied to maybe two places in, like, a month, and she'd been turned down by both of them.

"Still waiting to hear back," Mae said quickly. "But, y'know, fingers crossed."

"Fingers crossed," Mae's mom repeated. "Okay, bye-bye, sweetie."

Mae let out a quiet little sigh of relief as she turned to exit the kitchen. She felt guilty about lying to her mom, but she didn't want to let her down, either. Of course, Mae felt like the longer she went without finding a job, the more she was letting her mom down.

It wasn't easy, though. Mae's work experience didn't exactly inspire confidence. Not to mention, most of the business-owners in town knew her as the girl from the softball incident. Either that, or the girl who'd once tried to climb the flagpole outside of the school.

She wound up getting stuck on top of that flag pole for nearly six hours. The fire department had to come in to get her down, but she ended up just falling off of the pole and landing on Tim Whitley.

Oh, yeah. That was another person Mae needed to make amends to.

Mae had completely lost her train of thought by the time she made it to the front door.

Mae had more or less made a beeline towards the old basketball courts that sat on the edge of the woods. She didn't stop to say hi to anyone, which was a bit weird for a social butterfly like herself. Mostly, Mae just didn't want to worry anyone, or let anyone see her acting strange.

It was just one guy, right? Mae probably didn't need help. No need for her friends to get all scared and protective and stuff. Probably.

Of course, once Mae made it out to the Food Donkey parking lots, she realized she'd forgotten one little detail: Germ. The little guy seemed to always be hanging out in the parking lot, and today was no exception. There he was, right in front of her.

He'd already seen her, so there was no way Mae could just, like, walk past him. Or maybe she could? It'd be rude, but Germ probably wouldn't mind. Germ was kind of a rude dude himself.

Whatever. Mae decided the best thing would be to just wave as she passed him by.

So she did just that. Mae gave Germ a friendly smile and lifted her hand as she walked past him.

"Hey," Germ said. Then, he immediately began following Mae.

It took Mae a few feet to realize he was tagging along. She stopped, turning around and looking at Germ. He had the same, Germy expression on his face. Mae had seen Germ smile, but it seemed like even when he was happy, Jeremy Warton defaulted to a blank, mysterious stare.

"Were you following me?" Mae asked slowly. Obvious question. If he was just walking home, he wouldn't be directly behind Mae. He'd be off to her right, to walk past the stairs and the basketball court. As it was, he was poised to walk up the stairs along with her.

"Yeah," Germ said. "You going to the mines?"

God dammit. Was Germ psychic or something? "Yeah…" Mae said slowly. "I'm just gonna check it out. See if I see the weird dude you saw."

"I mean, he didn't look all that weird," Germ said. "He just looked like a normal dude. Except he was staring at the mines. For, like, a long time."

"Yeah, see? That's weird." Mae said. "Nobody should stare at mines except for, like… miners."

"I mean, I can show you where I saw him," Germ said. "You probably shouldn't be out there alone anyway. You look bad."

He was probably right. Mae's head was throbbing, and her whole body felt tired. It was a repeat of last November, alright. Maybe not as bad, but definitely not good. Still, Mae didn't exactly like him pointing it out. Stupid, concerned Germ.

"I'm fine," Mae mumbled. "I'm good. You don't have to follow me, Germ."

"Okay," Germ said. "I'm still going to, though."

"I appreciate your honesty," Mae said. She sighed, too tired to argue this any further. "Fine. Adventure time with Germ. Let's go. You'll see what you missed out on last year."

The gang had filled Germ in on what had happened to them a few days after the incident in the mine. He'd thrown dynamite into a well for them, so it was the least they could do. It was difficult to tell how much of the story Germ believed, but he at least took their story seriously. Seriously enough to stake out the mine fairly regularly, it seemed.

Mae continued to march her way up the stairs that connected to the old basketball court, Germ in tow. Mae didn't know if this place had ever really been used for basketball. Mostly, it was just a place for the local skater kids and Gregg to hang out.

Well, Gregg had tried to be a skater kid. Tried and failed. Repeatedly.

It wasn't much of a basketball court now, though. There were no basketball… towers. Is that what you called them? Mae was going to call them that from now on.

"Hey, Germ," Mae said. "What do you call the… things you use to play basketball? Like, the big sticks with the baskets on them."

"Hoops," Germ said.

"What? The whole thing is called a hoop?" Mae asked. "But, like, the only hoopy part is the baskety thing. Why is the whole thing called a hoop?"

"It's the rules," Germ said simply. "You gotta call it a hoop."

Okay, this was all just making Mae more upset. Basketball was stupid.

Woods, woods, woods. Mae felt like a significant portion of her life in Possum Springs was spent in the woods. The woods were where the parties were held, and where teens got up to their nonsense. Even these woods, which were supposed to be off-limits, had seen their fair share of teenage malarkey.

Walking this path made Mae nervous. Her last few experiences in these woods weren't exactly good. She'd been shot at, for one. That was kinda bad. The second time, someone else had gotten shot, but they kind of had it coming.

Hmm. Mae hoped nobody got shot at this time.

"Hey, Germ," Mae said, "you live close by, right?"

"Sorta," Germ said. "Kinda. I don't tell anyone where I live."

Mae nodded. "Yeah, I think Gregg mentioned that once. Is your family, like, really embarrassing?"

Germ shook his head. He was walking side-by-side with Mae now. That was kind of nice. Mae liked hanging out with someone she was taller than. Hopefully, Germ wouldn't grow any more in his life.

"I like to keep my home life and social life seperate," Germ said. "I mean, I almost invited you over to dinner once."

That caught Mae off-guard. That was mostly because the idea of eating dinner at Germ's house was so mysterious. For some reason, Mae pictured Germ's family as, like, a clan of trickster wizards. That was probably wrong, huh?

"It was last year, when you were going through your stuff," Germ explained. "I thought you deserved a chance to, you know, chill. I decided against it, though. I was nervous about you meeting my gramma."

"The spooky one?" Mae asked.

"The only one," Mae said. "But, yeah, she's real spooky. I was worried she'd scare you off. She's kinda weird."

"My granddad was kinda weird," Mae said. "He kept a tooth in a safe."

"That's some secret society shit right there," Germ said.

The trees were beginning to clear away as they grew closer and closer to the mines. They were nearing the old mining equipment now. It was a graveyard for the things that had built up Possum Springs. It was so weird to think of what this place must have been like, and what the town must have been like, back when the mine was running. Back when the town wasn't dying.

Those guys in the mine said that what they were doing was keeping the town alive. Mae had given a lot of thought to what they'd said, but it didn't add up to her. Lots of bad things had happened since they'd started feeding that… thing. Businesses had closed, streets had flooded, people had died or gotten run over by runaway parade floats…

Had their sacrifices even done anything? Somehow, the idea that Casey died for no reason hurt even more than the idea that he died for some crappy old guys' retirement plan. Not like the reason mattered, really. But Mae wanted Casey's death to mean something, at least.

"Pretty amazing to be something, at least."

"Hey, Mae?"

Germ's voice brought Mae back to reality. Germ was staring at her. Was that concern in his expression, or just confusion? How long had Mae been standing there among the old machines and carts?

"Sorry," Mae muttered. "I spaced out there."

"Do you wanna take a few minutes?" Germ asked.

Mae appreciated that Germ hadn't suggested turning around entirely. With the way Mae's head felt, a rest sounded good. She promptly fell into a sitting position on the old, dusty ground. Germ joined her, his hands in his lap.

"I been up here before," Germ said. "Back when I was a senior."

Mae nodded. She hadn't been in Possum Springs then, of course. She probably spent Germ's graduation day sleeping in her room, trying not to cry. College had been garbage.

"Did you see anything weird?" Mae asked. Germ shook his head.

"Nah, it was a party. Tim Whitley was in town and wanted to do a, like, homecoming thing. Me, Casey, and Gregg went."

Mae chuckled. "Wow, you went to a college party in high school? I'm kinda jealous."

"It wasn't a lot of fun," Germ said. "It was cold and windy, and Casey spent all night making out with some girl. He almost didn't come home."

"Yeah, that sounds like Casey," Mae mused. "He was big on smooching, and being smooched. He was, like, the first one of us to actually get kissed."

Germ nodded slowly. Mae wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, but whatever.

"I've only kissed, like, two people," Mae said. She paused, and then decided to be honest. "Well, one-and-a-half. I don't think Cole counts that much. What about you?"

"I like skating," Germ said. "I don't have a lot of interest in, like, kissing. It's kinda dumb."

Mae considered Germ's view on things. Looking at him, she wondered if it was even possible for him to kiss someone. His beak was kind of… out there. Yeah. Probably poke someone's eye out. Then again, it was kinda round. Maybe it'd mostly just get in the way of things?

Wait, why was Mae thinking so much about kissing Germ? This was stupid.

"I mean, I might be interested if I really liked someone," Germ said. "But mostly I think I'd just want to, like, play video games and skateboard with them."

"Those are good relationship goals," Mae said. "I'd want to wrestle with them. Then live with them on a farm in Iowa."

"Iowa's big and empty," Germ said. "Good place for a farm."

"Yeah, I don't know why I wanna live with them on a farm," Mae said. "I've never really even been on a farm. Ever since I was a kid, though, I've wanted to, like, spend my life on a farm with… whoever. And have two cats, and a dog, and howl at the moon with them."

Things got quiet for a bit. It was nice out. The sun was in the sky, and the weather was pleasantly warm. Mae would probably switch to short sleeves sooner or later. Maybe. Eh. Changing clothes was a hassle.

Mae stood up and stretched out. Her head did feel a little bit clearer after resting. Germ stood up as well, and without a word, they were walking again. It wasn't much further until they reached the cliff overlooking the mine. Hopefully this time, they wouldn't see a bunch of dudes getting ready to kill someone.

Mae didn't like the silence, but she couldn't really think of what to say. Germ was kind of hard to start a conversation with. Back in January, she'd tried talking to him about getting some dynamite, and he'd started talking about the time he got a concussion.

Thankfully, they only had to walk for a few minutes. Soon, Mae and Germ were standing on the rocky cliff that Mae had stood on less than a year ago. Looking down at the mine, Mae half expected to see a gathering of hooded figures again. But no.

Nothing but rocks, and a thing that used to be a thing.

"Last time I saw him, he was down there," Germ said, and pointed to the spot in front of the mine's sealed entrance. Lots of rocks were poking out of the entrance's wooden frame. Jeez. That cave-in had really done a number on the mine, huh?

"Did he, like, notice you?" Mae asked.

Germ shook his head. "Nah, I'm pretty quiet. People don't notice when I'm watching them."

Mae took a minute to fully register what Germ had just said. "Wait, Germ, you don't, like, stalk people, do you?"

Germ opened his mouth to speak, but another, deeper voice interrupted him. It came from directly behind them, on the trail that lead into the woods.

"The hell are you kids doing out here?"

Mae let out a little scream. She couldn't help herself. She noticed that even Germ looked a bit surprised. Slowly, Mae turned, and found herself looking at a tall, middle-aged man dressed all in flannel, eyeing both of them suspiciously. He looked familiar, but Mae couldn't quite place it.

Possum Springs was a small town, so it'd make sense that Mae had seen him before. He was probably someone's dad.

Lots of people's dads were probably out in the woods.

Apparently, Mae wasn't the only one who recognized someone. The man squinted a bit at Mae, clearly trying to place her face. Mae fidgeted a bit, nervous as the man studied her.

"Wait, Mae? Mae Borowski?" The man said.

"Uh, no." Mae said quickly. "No, I'm… June. June Muddy."

The man's harsh, distrustful expression dissolved into a friendly smile. "Yeah, you're Mae, alright," he said. "The hell are you doing out here, Borowski? This place is supposed to be off-limits."

The man's eyes darted to Germ, whose nervousness had been replaced by the same blank expression. The stranger looked back at Mae, his eyebrow raised. "This isn't really a good place for a date. All these old rocks are death traps."

Yeah, Mae knew that better than most people.

"We aren't here on a date," Mae said.

"That somehow makes being out here even weirder," the man pointed out.

"I was gonna show Mae a dead buck I found," Germ said. His tone was completely natural and unchanged. Mae was surprised. She hadn't pegged Germ for a good liar. She wondered if Germ was constantly lying all the time, and no one realized it.

The man winced a bit, clearly grossed out. "Had it been shot?" He asked.

"Nope. Just dead."

"What's a dead buck doing up by the mines?" The man asked. "Deer usually don't come out here. Something about the place spooks 'em."

Mae could understand that. She had some firsthand spook experience with the mines. Deer were probably, like, super smart, and knew all about cults and stuff. But they weren't smart enough to avoid getting shot by hunters. Heh. Stupid deer.

God, though, who was this guy? He was weirding Mae out. She knew she'd seen him before.

"So, like, speaking of why people are at the mines…" Mae said, "Why are you at the mines?"

The man's smile seemed to falter a bit. He tried to hide it, but there was no mistaking that look. Mae often got that look when she asked people questions that she apparently shouldn't ask. Seemed like this was an off-limits topic.

"I come up here every now and then," the man said. "I worked up here for a while after I graduated from school. I started coming up here after they closed it down. Just, you know, to look around."

The man's attention seemed to shift beyond Mae and Germ, to the mine's entrance down below the cliff. Mae didn't like how focused he was on it. It was like he was trying to look through the rocks and stone.

"Looks like there was a cave-in sometime last year," the man muttered, his voice slow and thoughtful. "Probably some bootleggers messing around's what caused it. Hope no one was in there when it happened."

Oh god. Oh god. Mae felt a chill pass over her whole body. Did he know? Was he one of them? With the way he said it, Mae didn't know if he was just stating a fact… or accusing her. Even if he was a member of the cult, though, he couldn't know that Mae and her friends had caused the cave-in. Right?

Mae tried to say something to brush all of this off, but she couldn't find her words. She was speechless. That didn't happen often. Thankfully, Germ spoke up and saved her the trouble.

"Probably wasn't no one down there," he said. "I mean, most people avoid the mines."

Germ was certainly playing it cool. Well, as cool as he usually played it. Still, it was easy for him to stay calm. He hadn't almost died in a hole and communed with an eldritch horror. At least, as far as Mae knew, he hadn't done those things.

The man seemed to consider Germ's words, and then nodded. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "You're probably right there. I guess I'm worrying over nothing." The man gave a smile that was all teeth. It freaked Mae out a little.

"Well," the man said, "I'll leave you two alone to look for your deer. Say hello to your dad for me, Mae."

Was this one of her dad's old work friends? Mae only knew a few of them. She hadn't seen any of them since she was, like, eight. Mae doubted she'd really recognize any of them like she recognized this guy.

"Sure," Mae said. Her fear that this man was one of the cultists was about on par with her shame at not knowing who he was. "It was weird seeing you again, mister… you."

Well, that pretty much let the cat out of the bag. When he realized Mae had no idea who he was, a look of confusion appeared on his face. Also, he looked a little hurt? Mae might have just been imagining that, though. She might have been imagining a lot of things.

The man didn't correct her, however. He just gave her a brief nod, and turned to walk off the way he came. Mae watched him walk off until he was out of earshot, and then tilted her head to whisper to Germ.

"Dude," She said. "Was that the guy you saw?"

"I dunno," Germ said. "Maybe. Sure. I only saw him from behind. I mean, he seemed weird enough."

"Yeah, he definitely did," Mae said.

Mae watched the man shrink down smaller and smaller as he walked into the distance. Eventually, he disappeared on the horizon as he walked down the hill and out of Mae's sight. It wasn't until Mae was certain that he wasn't coming back that she let loose the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

The walk back into town was quiet and uneventful. Mae was still trying to wrap her head around the things the man had said. There was no way he didn't know about people dying in the cave-in, right? That was how it seemed, at least. But did he know Mae had been involved? If he did, how did he know?

The gang needed to know about this. When Mae got home, she could contact them on messenger. Let them know what had happened. For now, Mae just wanted to get home. If she and Germ hurried, Mae would make it in time for dinner.

Mae had expected Germ to part ways by the time they reached the old basketball court, but he continued to follow her well into town. That was a little odd. Mae didn't mind too much, though. It was nice to have some company.

They stopped once they reached the Snack Falcon, and Mae turned to say her goodbyes to Germ.

"Hey, so, like," Mae said, "thanks for hanging with me today. It was good to have you around."

Mae thought she detected the faintest hint of a smile on Germ's face. She might have been imagining it, though. "No problem," he said. "I had fun."

That was surprising. "Did you?" Mae asked.

"Eh," Germ said, shrugging slightly. "I mean, it was a weird bad time, but it was cool to spend time with you. We should hang out more."

"I check in on you, like, every day, dude," Mae pointed out. That was true. She'd started thinking of the Food Donkey's parking lot as Germ's lair. Could parking lots be a lair? Did a lair have to have, like, walls and stuff?

Whatever.

"Yeah, I guess," Germ said. "I mean, it'd be cool to do something sometime."

"What, like skateboarding?" Mae asked. "I don't skateboard. Casey tried to teach me once, but I couldn't figure out how to turn." That had been embarrassing. A bunch of cool skater kids had watched her eat it. Still, she hadn't been as bad as Gregg.

Germ was quiet. He seemed to be thinking of something to say, but couldn't decide on anything. Mae was used to Germ just blurting stuff out most of the time. Him apparently not knowing what to say was weird.

"No," he said. "I mean, I'd kind of like to be better friends. Gregg's gonna be moving soon. It'd be cool to have someone to do something with."

Mae felt a feeling that she didn't have words for. On the one hand, what Germ was saying made her sad. Gregg moving away was, like, bittersweet. But, on the other hand, Mae got what Germ was saying. She really did.

If Gregg was going to be gone, maybe something could be made with the stuff he'd left behind.

'Left behind' didn't feel like the right word for it, but the sentiment felt right.

"I get you," Mae said. A smile slowly crept onto her face. "But if we're gonna hang out more, I've gotta ask you something. Tell me, Jeremy: what's your opinion on crimes?"

[ancient-trees]

So, tell me about your fictional children! I like hearing about people's characters! ^^

Thank you for asking! Putting this under a cut because it’s really long. Includes minor spoilers, especially for Tamuran, but nothing earth-shatteringly major unless you haven’t read the comic.

tl;dr:Varony: monster nerdEffire: snarky cobra nerdMath: grumpy old man nerdEmmie: +10 EPIC NERD also the best grandma

Versinthenet: dragon nerdRathe: swordie nerdPerrath: overly helpful nerd (w/ bonus cool doggo)Sukah: Gandalf is on strikeAleoth: the angstiest nerd

and Artreias: mostly an asshole (secretly a huge nerd on the inside, don’t tell anybody)

NERDS ALL NERDS.okay, read on:

I’ll start with Tamuran - I assume that’s what most people are following me for:

Varony you know if you read the comic - he’s the guy in my Tumblr icon. He belongs to a race of big arboreal predators that live deep in very dangerous forests, but for now he’s (sort of but not quite voluntarily) bound in the form of a big gangly human. For the most part he is okay with this arrangement (all except for the new “possibly permanent” aspect - see recent events in the comic). He’s endlessly curious, and he thinks humans are the weirdest, most bewilderingly fascinating things he’s ever encountered. He’s been human-shaped for (most of) about six years at this point - shortly after he was changed, he was found and taken in by a clan of traveling merchants, who taught him language and basically How To Human. They became a second family to him, as have the Ragtag Band of Adventurers he’s currently found his lot thrown in with, but sometimes he misses the trees.

Uh, stuff that I don’t think has been covered in the comic already: Back home, Varony (or Hhr'skhygh - approximation of his *growly-noises* real name) lived with his pack, which included his mother and three older siblings. His sister’s pretty cool, his brothers are jerks. He’s a good hunter, but his pack always saw him as something of a weirdo - asks too many pointless questions, wants to know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING. When he was little he used to love listening to his grandfather tell his people’s folktales, and legends about the outside world. And yes, he’s officially ace/aro, species notwithstanding. Humans just complicate it even more - his people’s mating rituals are pretty straightforward, while humans’ involve all sorts of flirting and bizarre games that catch him off-guard (and have gotten him into a few ..uncomfortable situations in the past, if you want to know what the deal was with him freaking out on poor Jadsira in chapter 14).

Effire is a Morphus - one of the magical, long-lived Tu Naul race who was born with shapeshifting abilities. All Morphyx get bound into a single animal form and magically bonded to a “worthy” human (for the duration of the human partner’s life) as a sort of cultural exchange/community service. Effire was never too keen on that idea, especially after he found out his partner would be a Zharus Guardsman, and ESPECIALLY after his own bonded form turned out to be a cobra. But after getting used to one another, Effire found that his partner Morgen was a dreamer and idealist with a brain that never stopped - far from the meatheaded soldier-for-hire he was expecting. After their Zharus Academy training was complete, they were hired by the Patriarch of Tamuran to work palace intelligence and security and to keep an eye on the Patriarch’s elder sons as part of their personal guard (much to Prince Johlan’s irritation).

Effire tends to be cynical and sharp-tempered, but he means well. He would do anything for Morgen, whom he loves fiercely. He’s always liked exploring, especially poking around in places he’s not supposed to be. His favorite animals to turn into before he was bound were falcons, swallows, and other quick, agile birds - it was a pretty big blow to be stuck in a form that doesn’t even have limbs. Being part of a prince’s royal guard at least means he’s gotten to travel from time to time, and between Morgen and palace goings-on his life is seldom boring… though the way things have gone lately, he’s starting to really wish for boring…

Mathim hasn’t shown up in the comic yet - the Atriand-side plotline follows his story. He’s a former colonel in the Atriand army who was discharged early for an injury that never healed right, and at this point he’s retired to a town out in the wilderness, a cantankerous old bastard who spends his time drinking too much and cussing out the neighbor kids. His troublemaking teenaged grandson - the only living family he isn’t estranged from - disappeared about a year ago without a trace, though Math’s suspicions lean toward sorceric activity. When strangers pass through town bringing odd rumors, it might finally be the key Math needs to find the kidnappers. But Math has secrets - he was born with a forbidden form of magic, a dangerous, volatile power that has terrified him all his life. The same power that he passed on to his grandson, the power that made the boy a target of sorcerers in the first place. And now Math is going to need to unlock that power if he wants to have any hope of saving his boy…

Emianna was supposed to be a minor character, but she insisted on becoming a lot more important than we’d planned (and I’m glad she did). She’s Math’s wife, who died a few years before the comic story but still plays a big role in it. She was a huge nerd and avid naturalist, though poor health kept her working in libraries rather than pursuing science in the field. The daughter of a prominent Atriand military family, she used to pretend to be a bit daft at her family’s social functions, so that ambitious suitors would focus their attention on her sisters and leave her alone. At least until a shy young officer in search of a restroom literally stumbled over her reading in a closet during one of those parties… 

Emmie likes: books, books, and more books, SCIENCE, yaoi. And also being Gramma Emmie to her family - she’ll make you some amazing cookies, but you might have to pry her out of her lab to do it.

Novel characters: From several books, which are intended (if all goes well) to fit together like puzzle pieces and thus are sort-of in development at the same time (in other words, my notes are a mess).  Standard disclaimer that nothing is 100% canon till the books are finished.

Versinthenet is a dragon. In my setting, dragons are features of the landscape - half-physical, half-spirit beings that come into existence in places where intense magic pools and snags, and serve to tie Magic to the physical world. They can’t physically travel far from their magic “nodes,” but they can use the tides of Magic to communicate with other dragons and watch events as they unfold elsewhere in the world and also stupid cat videos.  Most dragons are located far from human settlements, but some of the ones who do live near humans use their influence over local magic to become patron protectors for their area, and in return the humans see to any physical-plane needs they may have. Verse (don’t call him that to his face) was one of these - fairly young as dragons go, he calmed the seas, quelled storms, and ensured good fishing for the people of his island. But centuries of watching human conflicts and atrocities, capped with events involving the death of his closest mentor, have started him questioning whether these people deserve his help after all. Then an idiot wizard shows up with the audacity to try to bind him and use his magic. The binding attempt goes horribly wrong - the wizard dies and Verse finds his consciousness pulled into the wizard’s body, while the rest of his Dragon self, mindless, flies off to wreak havoc, pulling frayed Magic into a hurricane around itself as it goes. Now Verse has to figure out how to set things right, while being blamed for the actions of the wizard who made this mess… before the dragon unleashes its wrath upon the whole island, or the islanders find a way to destroy the revered protector who has betrayed them. (Beyond all that, the consequences of such a tear in the network of magic may be farther-reaching than anyone is prepared for…)

So yeah, he’s not having a very good day.

Rathe is quick, athletic, great with a sword, and wants to be a hero like the ones in the storybooks. Unfortunately, she’s the daughter of a highly-respected family of scholars in a society that abhors all forms of violence and prizes learning and tradition above everything else. Events conspire to lead her away from home and into the life of adventure she’s always craved… but when her wizard traveling companion goes and does something really, really stupid, she’ll find out that heroing is a lot more complicated than she expected… especially when it involves facing personal secrets she thought were buried in the past.

Perrath has had a magical gift since he was a child - the ability to mend things that are broken - and a passion for helping people to go along with it. Unfortunately, one night a mysterious storm blew away all the magic in his village, including his innate talent, and he’s been searching for it ever since, with a sole still-functional(?) finding charm leading the way and his dog at his side (whom he talks to. A lot). He misses his magic, but he’s found that in the meantime he really enjoys a life of wandering - going wherever his finder points him, meeting new people and exploring places he’d never heard of, using his mundane skills to repair people’s things in order to get by. Until he finds himself in a sticky situation out in the uncharted wilds, and learns that promising to fix something for malevolent shadow-demons is maybe not a good idea…

Sukah is a semi-immortal guardian mage, bestowed with certain powers and nobly tasked with the protection of humanity. Only it’s hard to do your job when your partner has long since disappeared, halving your power, and nobody wants your help or even listens to your advice anymore. So he’s watched history unfold from the sidelines, telling himself that if people want to make a huge mess of things that’s their business.  A crisis involving two worlds and the fabric of magic itself, along with the reappearance of someone he’d thought long dead, might be enough to convince him to dust off his old magic and get back in the fight, but by then it might be too late…

Thanks to a valiant sacrifice-beyond-hope made by the parents she’s never known, Aleoth supposedly harbors within her the soul of a great evil… and no one has ever let her forget it. Stifled and stigmatized by those who were supposed to be her protectors, she runs away and takes up with a band of notorious brigands. But whatever she does, she can’t escape the unnerving creature that has haunted her dreams all her life, or the disasters that seem to follow her steps.  When [plot happens] and events begin to come crashing in around her, she’ll have to figure out who and what she is and what she really stands for.

{Bonus shoutout to my college D&D character Artreias, a sorcerer/planewalker from Sigil who got stuck in a shit-ton of trouble thanks to his sketchy mage father’s sketchy past and even more sketchy friends. Treias was a minor noble on his mom’s side, well-to-do and highly educated, but he acted like he was from the streets since all the nobles he ever met were twelve kinds of terrible. He’d do just about anything to protect his family, though (blood family and family-of-choice), especially his younger sister, and including Infuriating Sketchy Dad, whom he loved anyway. Unfortunately the rest of the party characters hated him, since (thanks to the mysterious circumstances that got him thrown into the campaign events) he had a “trust no one” attitude and could be kind of a jerk about it.}

[wutbju]

Lester (Rentmeester) relates recollections of his schoolteacher father, Andrew, probably the “pioneer” of the chicken booyah supper. “At the old Finger Road School where he taught, funds were always in short supply,” he recalls. “So my father hit on the idea of a community picnic to raise money for the school. He went around to parents and neighbors, gathering up beef and chickens for the traditional Belgian soup that would be the main dish at the benefit affair. And he also went down to the office of the old Green Bay Gazette, looking for publicity.” The writer handling the news of the benefit picnic, so the story goes, asked what would be served. “Bouillon — we will have bouillon,” came the reply, with the word pronounced properly in French. “The young reporter wrote it down as he heard it,” Rentmeester relates. “It came out ‘booyah’ in the paper. It was booyah the first time it was served at Holy Martyrs of Gorcum Church — an affair my father also originated — and that’s what people have called it ever since.”The Green Bay recipe doesn’t really cut it compared to Gramma Meyers’ Missouri version. But then I found this little letter from 1997:From the Walloon point of view, the original “Booyah” was bouillon– a broth made from boiling a chicken with onion and celery, salt and pepper. The chicken was taken from the pot when sufficiently cooked and used as the main course of the meal, and the broth served in individual bowls. An additional bowl of rice was put on the table with each person adding what he wanted, if any, to the broth. This was related to me by a woman of Belgian descent, born in Kewaunee County in 1895, who lived to be 95 years old. As a young person, she had never seen the style of “booyah” as we know it today. With the Belgians’ penchant for frugalness, nothing was wasted. Bits of leftover vegetables gradually were added to the chicken broth– and later, the chicken, too– to make a more flavorful soup, almost a one-dish meal.So our Great Gramma Meyers’ version is the authentic Booyah! Impressive. Even down to the description that it feeds “a crowd!” I’m dying to know how it traveled down the Mighty Mississipp so far in such perfect condition. Booyah for Booyah!This recipe has a long history -- inside the Lewis family and in along-the-Mississippi history. This archivist documented it here, in a long-ago blog called Mona Faye’s Kitchen. 

Here’s the specific post. 

I have to admit that when I first joined the Lewis clan for their traditional New Year’s Supper, I thought I had misheard the name of this soup. Surely, it was “bouillion.” But when I got this little wedding gift from Mona Faye — a hand-written recipe book filled with family treasures — I realized that I didn’t mishear and they didn’t misspeak.

The tradition in my own slice of Lewis is to make this soup as soon as the weather turns brisk. Soups are really amazing. They are easy, requiring only one person’s presence somewhere in the house. They are cheap; I think I made a whole week’s worth of meals just today for about $5. They feel special; in contemporary times we don’t make a soup every day like our grandmothers did. The best recipes are the old ones — the kind you get over the phone or you remember without peeking at the instructions (notice my husband’s additional handwritten notes for the timing of each step and transcribed from a phone conversation.). They are crowd-pleasers; from adults to kids to toothless babes — everybody can enjoy soup. And they are really, really good for you.

Turns out, “booyahs” are way, way bigger than I realized. They even have their own wikipedia entry! The word comes from Green Bay, Wisconsin around 1905 (same year as our Perfection Salad made the news). Here’s the story:

“Lester (Rentmeester) relates recollections of his schoolteacher father, Andrew, probably the “pioneer” of the chicken booyah supper. “At the old Finger Road School where he taught, funds were always in short supply,” he recalls. “So my father hit on the idea of a community picnic to raise money for the school. He went around to parents and neighbors, gathering up beef and chickens for the traditional Belgian soup that would be the main dish at the benefit affair. And he also went down to the office of the old Green Bay Gazette, looking for publicity.” The writer handling the news of the benefit picnic, so the story goes, asked what would be served. ‘Bouillon — we will have bouillon,’ came the reply, with the word pronounced properly in French. “The young reporter wrote it down as he heard it,” Rentmeester relates. ‘It came out ‘booyah’ in the paper. It was booyah the first time it was served at Holy Martyrs of Gorcum Church — an affair my father also originated — and that’s what people have called it ever since.’”

The Green Bay recipe doesn’t really cut it compared to Gramma Meyers’ Missouri version. But then I found this little letter from 1997:

“From the Walloon point of view, the original ‘Booyah’ was bouillon– a broth made from boiling a chicken with onion and celery, salt and pepper. The chicken was taken from the pot when sufficiently cooked and used as the main course of the meal, and the broth served in individual bowls. An additional bowl of rice was put on the table with each person adding what he wanted, if any, to the broth. This was related to me by a woman of Belgian descent, born in Kewaunee County in 1895, who lived to be 95 years old. As a young person, she had never seen the style of ‘booyah’ as we know it today. With the Belgians’ penchant for frugalness, nothing was wasted. Bits of leftover vegetables gradually were added to the chicken broth– and later, the chicken, too– to make a more flavorful soup, almost a one-dish meal.”

So our Great Gramma Meyers’ version is the authentic Booyah! Impressive. Even down to the description that it feeds “a crowd!” I’m dying to know how it traveled down the Mighty Mississipp so far in such perfect condition. Booyah for Booyah!

Straight A Cookbook, Bob Jones University, 1996.

[kalicofox]

In which Stiles is a genesis Candy Witch, I attempt to get back into writing (again), and stuff happens.

Candy witches are people with magical powers that find those powers best expressed through confections. Whether those confections are actual candy, baked goods, or (in the case of one individual from Texas), smoked meats, is up to the proclivities of the individual, and nearly impossible to tell before the onset of the individual's powers.

Proclivities may run in families, and recipes can and are passed down through family lines.

Contrary to popular belief, a candy witch needs very little to no special ingredients to work their magic. A kitchen, and the staples therein are all a candy witch requires.

'Food is love' is a very common candy witch saying, and many of the strongest practicing lines of candy witches hail from Greece, Italy, and France. Each line practices their own particular style of witchery; usually refusing to even consider sharing recipes, (or spells) with outsiders.

The insular and highly competitive nature of the Candy Witch Clans have made it difficult in the extreme for genesis witches, or witches from dormant lines, to get very far with their magic.

Small online communities of individuals will share recipes and swap spells, or even help troubleshoot problems, but it's equally likely that you're talking to someone who is trying to get rid of the competition as someone who is honestly trying to help.

For new witches with no clan to back them up, experimentation is the name of the game. Other names the game is known by are 'Get down!' and the more popular, 'Duck!' 'Fire in the Hole!' on the other hand, has largely been dismissed as too cumbersome to say quickly.

-Excerpts from the book "Food is Love. And Hate. And a Hell of a Lot of Other Things."

---------------------------

When Claudia Stilinski was alive, she'd had three loves. They were, in no particular order, her husband, her son, and the candies her Nona had made and sent to her every winter, right around New Years.

Unfortunately, her Nona had died before Claudia had been able to introduce two of those three loves to one another. Instead, Claudia was left with three hardbound journals full of recipes written in the tiniest handwriting she'd ever seen and a fiance that had heard all about Nona's out of this world Mazurek but had never gotten to try it.

Claudia couldn't let that state of affairs stand, and so began the the contest of wills that would shape her as-yet unborn son's life. ----------------------------

Almost every memory Stiles had of his mother involved the kitchen in one way or another.

Not in like, a creepy misogynistic way or anything, but more in a... well, more in an antagonistic way.

It wasn't like his mom had hated cooking, Stiles was pretty sure. In fact, most of the time she loved cooking, and baking, and doing everything she could to get one of great-gramma's recipes exactly right.

It's just that most of the time the recipes called for ingredients that most of the grocery stores in Beacon Hills (and half the cities within an hour's drive) swore up and down didn't exist. Or at least, they didn't have them. And no, they wouldn't order them.

So Claudia was forced to hunt down substitutions and make do with those. And no matter how much Stiles or his dad praised the results, Claudia couldn't be satisfied, because she knew what she was supposed to be tasting, and that, right there on the plate? Wasn't it.

So Stiles grew from baby, to toddler, to child, watching his mother curse and berate the oven for being too hot, or the mixer for blowing it's motor, or the cheese for not melting right, and thought this is right.

Because of course the oven knew better. The dial might be a bit wonky, but Mom knew how to gauge the temperatures, and besides, there was the oven thermometer anyway. Of course mixer shouldn't have broken just then, it could have held out until it wasn't needed anymore! And well, maybe the cheese couldn't help the fact that it wasn't the right kind, but still, it should have tried harder.

And as he grew from child to slightly older child, watching her remodel the kitchen in it's entirety taught him a new way of looking at her domain.

Everything has a place, and the best place for a thing is where you don't even have to think about locating it. Finding bowls, or spatulas, or spices, should all be instinctive. If you plan how you're going to lay out a kitchen, and then make sure that everything will fit into the places that you automatically go to reach for them, then everything is a hundred times easier.

Watching his mother croon happily along with the radio one morning after the remodeling had finished, Stiles thought he might understand what she meant. It was like the kitchen itself was handing her things as she needed them, and Stiles couldn't take his eyes off of her as plates of pancakes made their way off the stove and onto the table.

When the unthinkable happened and Claudia died, neither Stiles or his dad even looked at the kitchen for nearly a week. It wasn't until Melissa McCall descended on their house like an avenging angel­-- filling their fridge with pre-made meals and everything an eleven year old might need to make his own lunches, and telling them that the majority of it all had better be gone when she came to check next week-- that they even started to snap out of it.

After that it was easier to use the kitchen. Not easy, by any shape of the word, but easier. The ghost of Claudia Stilinski still hovered over the counters and in the spice rack, but they needed to eat, so they did their best to ignore the memories.

As time passed, the ghosts and memories faded, becoming easier to deal with, and harder to recall with any real clarity, until John was studying case files on the kitchen table, and Stiles thought nothing of pulling out a couple of pans to make breakfast. (If his dad didn't have something homemade to eat, then Stiles knew he was just going to grab something from the diner on the way to work.)

Then the Bite happened, and far too quickly the kitchen became the scene of recriminations, and arguments, and far, far too many long nights for the Sheriff. Stiles started avoiding the room again, and it was all the Sheriff could do sometimes to try to keep up what they called 'normal'. -----------------------

Brown eyes flew open in a darkened room, and Stiles flung sweat-drenched blankets off of himself, rolling out of bed and practically flying out of his room, down the hall, and into the bathroom.

The light stabbed his eyes like daggers, but he forced himself to keep them open, staring into the mirror and searching for any hint of gunmetal grey or cool, alien silver.

Nothing.

Warm brown, almost honey colored, the same as his mom's had been. No hint of the Nogitsune. It was just a dream. Another nightmare in what seemed like an endless stream of them.

He sagged, closing his eyes and letting his arms on the counter take most of his weight so that he could rest his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. This was getting ridiculous. If he got any more sleep deprived, he didn't think he'd be able to keep the pack from noticing.

Though really, he wasn't sure which would be worse. Them noticing, or them not noticing.

At least if they noticed it meant they were looking in the first place. Sighing, Stiles shoved himself away from the counter, fumbling blindly for the bathroom light before opening his eyes once again to the darkness of his house at three am.

Nostalgia took him quietly down the hall, down the stairs, and into the dark kitchen, where the stove light provided just enough light to give the kitchen a soft, golden glow.

For a moment Stiles hesitated, not sure what he was even doing, then, the barest hint of a memory surfaced, and he crossed the kitchen with renewed purpose, reaching up to the cupboard above the stove and opening it to reveal three cookbooks, dozens of magazines,  and four hardbound books with leather covers.

Stiles' hand hovered over first one, then another of the books, then finally descended and pulled it out, his fingers caressing the soft purple leather as he turned around and leaned against to counter to get a better angle for the light.

"Stiles honey, what's wrong?" Warm, honey colored eyes looked worriedly at him, and soft arms gathered him him in a hug. "A bad dream, huh? Well I know just the thing to fix that."

The hand written recipe book practically fell open to the recipe he'd been barely remembering, and his smile turned bittersweet.

"We have to make sure I'm making it right! Here, you hold the book for me, and help me remember, okay?"

A small saucepan found its way onto the stove. Milk, and cinnamon, a tiny dusting of chili powder, chocolate powder, and the secret ingredient, the one that she'd always let him sprinkle in, holding him up so that he could see the steaming mixture, a tiny pinch of lavender.

The process was easy, and when he was done, Stiles was left with a mug of steaming hot chocolate that smelled so much like home that his throat closed up with the threat of tears.

The first sip, on the other hand, washed the lump away. All the tension that'd been keeping him going seemed to flow out of him, and by the time he'd finished half the mug he was yawning again.

When his dad found him the next morning, fast asleep at the kitchen table, there was still chocolate in the bottom of the mug, and Stiles couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well.

After that, it became a habit; have a nightmare, go make cocoa, pass out at the kitchen table. It didn't matter how bad the nightmare was, or what it was about, somehow the cocoa managed to ease the adrenaline away and return him to sleepy lassitude.

His dad seemed to regard his new habit of falling asleep at the table with the same sort of resigned curiosity he did most of Stiles' activities these days, but aside from suggesting that Stiles take the cocoa up to his room, said nothing.

Lydia, on the other hand, had no such compunctions, and cornered him in the coffee shop closest to school, an absolutely enormous drink in her hand.

"All right, Stiles, I don't know where you got them, but you need to share."

"What?" Stiles barely kept from yelping, glancing around to see if anyone else had caught the almost-break in his voice.

"I don't know how," Lydia said impatiently, "but you're finally getting sleep. That means you've got sleeping pills or something, and you really need to share with the rest of us humans. We aren't like Scott and Jackson, we need actual sleep."

"Um." Stiles said, torn between pointing out that technically Lydia wasn't human, and denying that he had any such sleep aid.

"Shut up." Lydia said flatly, "Now, what is it? Where did you get it, and when can I get some?"

"I don't have anything!" Stiles protested, and Lydia's eyes narrowed dangerously as her grip tightened on her cardboard to-go cup.

"Stiles." She said, her voice dangerously even, "You weren't sleeping. I'm going to guess that you weren't sleeping more than two, maybe three hours a night. In the last week you somehow managed to lose the bags under your eyes, you don't look half dead from exhaustion any more, and you've somehow found the energy to start annoying Derek again."

Well now, that was going a bit far, "I always have the energy to annoy Derek!"

"Yes," Lydia said patiently, "but now it's working." Oh.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh'." Lydia said, her foot tapping impatiently, "Now spill, Stilinski."

"I don't know!" Stiles blurted, "I mean, I still have nightmares and shit, but if I drink some of my mom's cocoa, then I can sleep again. That's it!"

One delicate eyebrow arched, and the foot tapping paused. "Cocoa?"

"Yeah." he had to swallow around the beginnings of a lump in his throat. "My mom used to make it for me when I had nightmares as a kid. I just... I missed it."

"Hmmm." For a moment Lydia was silent, studying his face thoroughly enough that Stiles felt like she was peeling him apart, then she nodded once, abruptly.

"Can I have the recipe?"

Stiles blinked.

The knee jerk part of him wanted to say no. Instantly and unequivocally. But this was Lydia, and while he may not want to jump on her bandwagon anymore, she was still one of his best friends. And it was just a cocoa recipe.

But.

It was his mom's recipe. Something special, that she'd made just for him.

"Sure."

His voice sounded tense, even to him, but Lydia said nothing about it as Stiles slung his backpack around to dig through it for a piece of paper and a pen, then slapped the paper up against the wall to scribble the simple recipe down.

"Here." He said, then hesitated. "just... don't start giving that away, okay? It's a family recipe."

Lydia nodded, folding the paper into crisp lines and tucking it neatly into her purse with quick efficiency.

"Thank you."

And with that, she turned and marched briskly out of the coffee shop, strawberry blonde hair swinging in her wake.

Stiles fully expected that to be the end of that, so he was taken entirely off guard when Lydia cornered him outside of their shared history class the next day, her eyes snapping with barely reigned in frustration.

"It didn't work." She hissed, and Stiles huffed a sigh, scrubbing his hand over his slightly too long (not having a buzz cut always felt weird until he could fix it) hair.

"Lydia," he said patiently, "It's cocoa. Not a sleeping pill. It was never going to ju-"

He was cut off by a jar of chocolate sludge being shoved under his nose.

"This is what happened when I followed that recipe." Lydia said, her voice the exact kind of even that said that her calm was very, very purposeful. "This," she said, shaking the jar slightly, "Is not cocoa. I don't know what it is, but it's not cocoa."

Stiles took the jar from her and held it at eye level, shaking it slightly to get a better look at its consistency.

It flowed like syrup, almost, and Stiles frowned, then unscrewed the lid to sniff it.

It smelled like chocolate, with a hint of cinnamon and an underlying spice that hinted at chilies.

Huh...

One more inhale brought the hint of lavender he'd been looking for to his nose, and, mentally shrugging, he tilted the jar until he could stick a finger into the sludge, then popped it into his mouth before Lydia could stop him.

Lydia was waiting for him when he woke up.

"So." she said conversationally, "How'd you sleep?"

"Like shit." Stiles croaked, looking around blearily, "Where-?"

"The nurse's office." she told him, "I managed to convince them that you'd just pulled too many all nighters in a row and didn't need to go to the hospital because you wouldn't wake up."

Stiles blinked once, processing that, then scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Classes just got out," Lydia continued, idly turning a page in the book she'd been reading, "Congratulations, you slept all day. How do you feel?"

"Like shit." Stiles repeated, then winced as his stomach twisted with hunger. "Hungry."

"Here."

An apple was shoved at him, and Stiles grabbed it, taking a huge bite.

"Fo wa appent?" He asked through the mouthful of fruit.

"You decided to taste my 'cocoa' and passed out." Lydia told him, and shut her book in favor of turning her full attention onto him.

"Did it do that to you?" Stiles asked, glancing at her worriedly. Lydia scoffed, raising one eyebrow derisively.

"Do you honestly think that when that didn't turn out looking anything like cocoa I was stupid enough to still try to drink it?"

Well. Looking at it that way. "Probably not." Stiles admitted, and Lydia settled back in her seat, satisfied by that answer.

"Exactly. So. Was that supposed to happen?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know? As far as I knew, that's just a normal cocoa recipe."

"But?"

"But I wasn't even tired before tasting your sludge."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

For a moment the two of them sat in silence, then Lydia stood, stuffing her book into her backpack before hefting Stiles' backpack into view.

"Get up. We're going to Deaton's."

"Of course we are." Stiles sighed.