#yams from scratch

[mariatesstruther]

just made my first from scratch stuffing and yall… i put my mf foot in it

[miaeons]

made inari yam poke bowl again 🤤🤤🤤

[solvisun]

010525 ♡ the ultimate cure to your sickness is simple: just listen to the sweet sound of tsukishima kei's voice. ( fluffy fluff. some swearing. not proofread. )

the world kind of flips upside down when sickness has fallen upon you.

your clothes don’t feel comfortable—they scratch your skin in a way you want to rip it off of you. food tastes bland and stale. your ears are sensitive to noise, even the slightest hum like your fan aren’t an exception. your runny nose makes you miss the feeling of breathing like a normal person. and you’re so exhausted even though all you’ve been doing is mope around lying in your bed and everything pisses you off.

you’re not in a fever; worse, you’ve caught a random flu which makes you feel like you’re running a fever.

you sniff and realise you’ve already went through four boxes of tissues right as you fished out the last one, groaning from frustration as you toss them into the bin. there’s nothing left—your box of tissues as well as your will.

it isn’t until it’s afternoon that you scurry off into taking your medicine because while you tried to get up moments ago, you couldn’t. or rather, you didn’t want to. (eh, same thing.) and then you unexpectedly dozed off while staring into the void of your ceiling.

you think you’ve calmed down after gulping through a whole glass of water, but as you feel more of the atmosphere chill crawl into your body even after being bundled up by your comforters and blankets, you’re forced to relent to the fact that you’re not going to get through this soon—especially not without someone’s help.

or at least, a company.

so you do your best not to feel ashamed as you pull out your phone, dialed that one specific contact and wait through the ringing instead of throwing your device out of the window and scream.

you didn’t even give tsukishima kei a heads up. he might not even answer straight away. or he might never answer at all. you can’t hear your phone beeping over your loud thoughts ready to consume you. and then you physically jumped when you suddenly hear a soft voice cutting through the static.

no, soft isn’t the right word. soothing, perhaps. despite the nonchalance, you had always found his voice attractive.

“hello?”

still, it catches you off guard.

you don’t respond right away, your throat tight and dry, you wonder if you’ve made a mistake. but then tsukishima speaks again, his tone dipping with faint exasperation.

“are you just going to sit there breathing into the phone, or…?”

“uh, hi,” you mumble, voice rough and embarrassingly hoarse. “sorry. i… didn’t mean to—”

“yeah, yeah, skip the apology. what do you want?” he interrupts, but there’s no real bite in his voice. if anything, he sounds calmer than usual. though you can’t quite place it.

you hesitate, clutching your phone a little tighter. “just… wanted to hear someone’s voice.”

the line goes quiet for a beat, and you wince internally. you’re convinced he’s about to hang up when he sighs.

“with the way you're talking, i can't tell if you're actually speaking words or just doing a live ASMR demo of a clogged drain,” he remarks flatly, and despite the jab, there’s a thread of concern laced through the words.

“what the fuck. i’m just sick,” you reply, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see.

“no shit. what happened to you?”

“i have no idea myself.”

“hold on.” there’s some shuffling on his end, followed by muffled voices. “yamaguchi says hi,” tsukishima adds, his tone noticeably lighter, though still tinged with his signature indifference.

“hi yams,” you drawl, feeling a tiny smile tug at your lips.

more rustling, and then yamaguchi’s distant voice comes through, says your name cheerful and clear: “get well soon!”

the faint sound of laughter in the background feels like sunlight breaking through your cloudy mood, and you can’t help but laugh softly, though followed by a cough.

“how was practice?”

“fine,” tsukishima answers shortly, as expected.

yamaguchi, however, fills in the silence. “it ended early today. coach wanted us to rest up for the match this weekend.”

there’s a brief exchange between the two before you hear yamaguchi say goodbye, his voice growing fainter as he walks away. then it’s just you and tsukishima.

“..hey,” you start after a while, growing awkward just hearing his footsteps and the wind.

“what?”

“how’s school?”

“do you really want me to talk?”

“yes. please.”

he sighs, “ms. nakajima called in sick too, so no surprise quiz, fortunately.”

“oh, yippee.”

you hear a suppressed snort on the other end of the line, but you don’t comment, opting instead to listen to the steady rhythm of his voice as he recounts his day.

it takes a bit of coaxing, but he eventually keeps going. you close your eyes, letting the cadence of his words wash over you like a soothing tide.

complaints about school, a snide comment about someone in his class, a dry recount of shoyo almost tripping over a volleyball during practice. the casualness of it all feels like a warm blanket, his dry quips bubbling a quiet chuckle from you every now and then. you catch yourself smiling, your cheeks heating—not just from the lingering flush of your illness, but maybe... maybe because of him.

the thought throws you off, and suddenly you feel warmer than you should.

his voice is just so… calming. like a large hand spreading over your shivering skin, the warmth seeping in slowly and gently, settles you all bundled up in ease. the way he talks to you is unhurried, deliberate, like there’s nothing pressing or wrong in the world at this moment—not with him here, not with you listening.

“are you even listening?” he suddenly asks, though it's rhetorical, softer.

you smile, eyes still closed, as if trying to commit this moment to memory. “mhm. keep talking. i like listening to you.”

the line goes silent for a moment. you can picture him adjusting his glasses, his jaw tightening as a faint blush creeps up his cheeks, though he’d deny it with every ounce of sarcasm in his body.

“you’re so weird,” he mutters, and you try not to snicker.

still, he doesn’t stop talking.

it stretches into more mundane things; —the weather, a stupid argument in class that yamaguchi tried to mediate, the latest book he’s reading. this, grounds you in a way that's therapeutic, something special and long-lasting—and makes your chest feel so much lighter. just hearing him makes the gnawing loneliness and irritability of your sickness fade into the backdrop, almost as if you forgot you were wallowing in misery minutes ago.

—oh wait, how long has it been exactly?

you glance at the clock, startled to see the time.

“wait,” you interrupt gently, your voice hoarse but amused. “didn’t you say practice ended early? shouldn’t you be home by now?”

there’s a brief pause on the line, and then you hear the faint sound of rustling, like a plastic bag shifting.

“i am,” he says simply.

you frown, confused. “then why haven’t you—”

“i'm here. open the door.”

you blink, his words sinking in like a slow ripple. “huh?”

"open. your. door-"

"i heard you the first time!"

your heart skips, and you bolt upright, clutching the phone as if that could steady the sudden rush of emotions. “you… you’re outside?”

“obviously.”

"what if i was greeted by a murderer and not you?"

"what if i was the murderer?"

you laugh. scrambling out of bed, you nearly trip over your comforter in your haste to reach the door. you hesitate for a moment, hand hovering over the knob, suddenly self-conscious of how disheveled you look. but the thought of him waiting, standing outside in the cold, pushes you to open it.

and there he is.

tsukishima kei, with a plastic bag in one hand and a familiar, unimpressed look on his face, though there’s something... inexplicable in his expression, more focused, tense.

“you didn’t have to.”

“yeah, well, maybe i did,” he brushes past you to step inside just enough to hand you the bag. “you’re hopeless. there’s some soup, medicine, and, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing away. “other stuff.”

you glance at the bag, heart swelling. “thank you,” you murmur, voice quiet and sincere.

he doesn’t reply right away, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he reaches out to ruffle your hair, you think you've mistaken the gesture for a flick in the forehead, instinctively closing your eyes. when he doesn't, you feel dumbfounded by the sudden act.

his hand lingers for a moment longer than necessary, gaze quiet but solely on you. you feel—warm, and about to sneeze hard with how itchy your nose is. and as much as you'd like for him to be this close to you, your sickness is irritatingly getting in the way.

you swivel to the side, "ah-choo!" and again, he takes you by surprise when he carefully shoves a tissue on your face when you hear a breathless and poorly suppressed laugh.

"laughing at my suffering now?" you blow your nose, trying to act more sickly for dramatic effects.

"if you knew how cute you look right now.."

you're turning delirious. "i'm what now?"

"rest up," is what he replies. dismissive. like he's speaking to himself.

and just like that, his already at the doorway, hand on the doorknob. “don’t forget to eat. and sleep. properly.”

a nod is all you can muster, biting back a smile as you watch him retreat.

as the door clicks shut behind him, you’re left standing there, warmth lingering where his hand had been.

meanwhile, tsukishima curses under his breath as he walks away, his cheeks burning despite the cold air, the sky bruised in blood orange and bathing him in a mellow glow. “stupid,” he mutters, adjusting his scarf as if that could hide the rush of warmth in his chest, red on his cheeks.

“…i can’t get sick.” he thinks he is already, considering how flushed he is right now.

wrote this when i was sick last week, thought of him, wrote him while listening to mazzy star <3

[winchesterwild78]

Thankful for You

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester X Reader (wife), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Cass, Jack

Warnings: Just a little holiday fluff.

A/N: Just a short story about Thanksgiving Day in the bunker. The reader and Dean are newly married and she wants their first Thanksgiving as a married couple to be perfect. 

I picked Dean instead of Jensen or any of his other characters, because Dean was the one who wouldn’t know what a traditional Thanksgiving would look like.

Does not follow the Supernatural story line. Used characters from the show, but all work is my own. I do not own the rights to these characters. 

Please don’t take my work. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Written fast and not edited, please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

I woke up early, Dean’s arm laying loosely over my body. I slipped out of bed to our shared bathroom and took a quick shower. I needed to get the turkey on so it could be ready before everyone came over.

Dean and I had been married about 6 months and this was our first real Thanksgiving. Since he grew up in the hunting life, Thanksgiving wasn’t something he celebrated. I on the other hand always had the traditional Thanksgiving with all the food, football and family you could handle. 

I had bought a turkey, ham, rolls, yams, potatoes, green beans, stuffing, and of course pie. I knew I wouldn’t have time to bake all the pies, so I bought a few, but wanted to make Dean a cherry pie from scratch. 

I was thankful we had multiple ovens in the bunker, otherwise there was no way I could pull off roasting a turkey, making a ham and the pie in one day. 

After my shower I went into the kitchen and prepared the turkey. Once it was in the oven I started on the pie and ham. By the time Dean got up I was washing and peeling potatoes. 

He walked into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. His arms were crossed over his firm chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. He smiled as he watched me flit around the kitchen.

“Need any help, sweetheart.” His voice startled me. I looked up at him and bit my lip. God I was so incredibly lucky to have him. “Good morning, Dean. No, I'm okay right now.”

He crossed the room, came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into his chest and he kissed my temple. “Do I smell pie?” He grinned. 

“Yes you do, but it’s in the oven. You have to wait.” Dean’s bottom lip poked out in a pout. I turned and faced him, placing my hands on his chest. “Dean, it’s not ready yet. You have to wait.” “Is that the only pie?” He asked with a smirk. 

“Now what do you think?” I said as I walked towards the counter. I held up the pumpkin pie and a grin spread across his face. He took three steps towards me and took the pie out of my hand with a chuckle. 

“Dean Winchester, give that back to me. That’s for later.” He laughed as he held it over my head. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Can’t reach it? You’re welcome to have it back if you can reach it.” 

“Oh you’re so mean.” We both were laughing and I kept jumping, trying to reach the pie. Sam appeared at the door and saw us playing around. He loved seeing his brother so happy. 

“Alright you two, get a room.” He said as he walked in to grab a coffee. “Sam, please tell your brother to give me back the pie. It’s for later.” Sam chuckled, threw his hands up in defeat, “You’re on your own shortstack. I thought you’d know by now to never get in the way of Dean and his pie.” 

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side, Sammy.” I said as I kept trying to get the pie. “Thanks baby brother.” Dean laughed.

“Alright, both of you, out of my kitchen. I have dinner to finish and you’re distracting me, Dean.” Dean placed the pie down, pulled me flush to him and kissed my lips. 

“God I love you, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re mine.” “I love you too, Dean, and you better believe it. Until my last breath, I’m yours.” 

Dean walked out of the kitchen and turned back to look at me again. His heart leaped in his chest. 

I finished getting the rest of the food prepared and I set the dining room table. Sam invited Eileen, Jack and Cass were coming, and of course Dean and I would be there. I was excited to have all of our family there to help celebrate Thanksgiving. 

As I stepped into mine and Dean’s room I found him sitting at his desk writing. I hadn’t seen him write in a long time. He told me when we first started dating he would write sometimes to help with his anxiety. 

“Hey, baby. I’m just gonna jump in the shower before everyone gets here.” I said as I stepped into the room. Dean looked up, “Okay sweetheart. I’ll be done here in a minute.” I lightly touched his shoulder, “Okay Dean.”

“Hey sweetheart?” I turned to look at Dean from the bathroom doorway, “Yes?” “I love you.” I smiled, “I love you too, Dean.”

About twenty minutes later I was showered, dressed and ready for dinner. When I walked into the room, Dean was gone and his journal was tucked away in its spot on the desk. I nervously bit my lip. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness creep into my heart. Dean was upset about something, but he was keeping it from me. I had worked so hard to get most of his walls down, it broke my heart to think there was something bothering him that he felt he couldn’t share with me. 

I took a deep breath and walked towards the dining room. Sam, Eileen, Cas and Jack were all there chatting. I looked around for Dean but didn’t see him. 

They all greeted me, “Hey Y/N. Everything looks delicious, are you ready to eat?” I smiled, “Sure, y’all dig in. I’m going to find Dean.” Sam looked up at me, “He’s in the garage.” I nodded and walked towards the garage. 

I heard Dean before I even got in the room. I walked over to Baby and saw Dean sitting in the car. His eyes met mine, “Damn.” He whispered, causing me to blush.

“Dean, dinner is ready. Let’s go eat.” Dean climbed out of the car and pulled me flush to him. “Look at how beautiful you look, sweetheart. I am one lucky man.” “Don’t you forget it, Mr. Winchester.” “I could never, Mrs. Winchester.” 

“Before we go, Y/N I wanted to talk to you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and bit my bottom lip, “Okay.” My voice barely a whisper. “I’ve done some pretty screwed up stuff in my life. I never thought I was worthy of anything, let alone love. Then I met you. I am thankful every single day I get to wake up next to you as your husband. You making this day special, this meal for us means so much to me. Nobody has ever loved me like you do. I know you saw me writing earlier, and I wanted to talk to you about that.” 

“Dean, you don’t have to. I know it’s how you deal with things in your head. Whatever you wrote, it’s okay if you keep it to yourself.” 

Dean stepped closer, “Baby I want to tell you. It’s about you, us.” “Okay, Dean. Whatever you have to say I can take it. No matter what it is.” My heart hammered in my chest. I was terrified and didn’t know why.

“Sweetheart, I’m ready.” I looked at him confused. “Ready to eat?” I asked. Dean chuckled, “No, well, yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m ready to start a family with you. I want us to have those babies we talked about. I want to leave this world a little better than we found it.” 

My breath hitched, “What? You really want to start a family?” “Yes, Y/N. I want to start a family with you. I can’t wait to see our babies and raise them by your side.” 

I threw my arms around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. “Yes, Dean! A thousand times yes! Let’s have a baby.” Dean kissed me deeply, “Wanna go start now?” He winked. 

“As much as I would, we do have a table full of guests who are hungry.” Dean chuckled, “You’re right. Let’s go eat. I can’t wait to get some of that pie you made.” “I can’t wait to start a family with you, Dean.” He grabbed my hand, “Me either, darlin’.” 

Dean and I walked into the dining room and greeted everyone. As I sat down and looked around the table at my family I smiled. I loved every single person sitting here with me, and I couldn’t wait to bring a little one into this family. 

We love each other deeply, protect completely, and never give up on each other. I know our baby will grow up loved, strong and protected.

As dinner started to wrap up, Sam and Eileen announced they were going to be getting married, Cas and Jack were rebuilding heaven, and Dean announced he and I were going to work on starting a family. 

Everyone was excited for us. Jack stepped close to me and whispered in my ear. I looked at him and he nodded. 

My heart fluttered. Later that night, Dean and I laid in bed, after a few times of trying and he held me tight. 

“Y/N, thank you for a wonderful day. I am so thankful for you.” “Dean, I am thankful for you too, and our baby.” 

Dean’s brain took a second to catch what I said. His eyes shot open and he propped himself up on his elbow, “What baby?” I looked at my husband, deep in his green eyes, “Jack told me tonight I’m pregnant, Dean. We’re pregnant.” 

“Oh my god, sweetheart. I’m gonna be a dad?” “Yes, Dean. You’re going to be a dad.” Dean gently placed his strong, calloused hands on my belly and kissed my lips. “Now this is something to be thankful for.” “Yes it is, Dean. Happy Thanksgiving, my love.” Dean cupped my face, “Happy Thanksgiving to you too, sweetheart.” 

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Tags: 

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@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

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[causenessus]

new grounds

part 0.4. ABRASIONS . . . 12.20.2023

PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . she needs him by her's

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

the freeloaders have known each other for like five years they take their bets very seriously

whoever's winning is getting $80

y/n and akaashi stopped at new grounds to buy coffee and to see their manager out of spite (yachi had class </3)

tsukishima's so good at advice and gossiping because as a quiet kid he always gets sat next to girls in class to split up yappers but they still came over to talk to each other so he always heard about all the gossip and sometimes because he was a random dude who had no one else to tell this gossip too the girl next to him would start complaining to him about her drama and he'd end up getting involved in the gossip too

anyway

hinata got a bloody nose, a few bruises, and scratches from flipping over that barrier but it was worth it because the crowd went silent when he disappeared behind the barrier but then he popped back up and everyone cheered

bokuto wanted akaashi's attention because he wanted to show him a new play him and kageyama had developed because who wouldn't want akaashi's praise <3

the baristas all ran down to hug their beefy man <3 kageyama just watched silently while yamaguchi and tsukishima had started their search across their internet for yn's social

you best believe tsukishima learned how to find people's accounts form the girls he sat next to in class as well

hinata is very well trained in translating kageyama's words and expressions

the moment hinata asked if he could sleep in tsukki & yam's dorms tsukki said yes because he loves him deep down <3

hinata was so happy sleeping on the floor between them but he felt bad and went to check on kags who still had the lights on at 1 AM and was staring at the floor

hinata shut the door and went back to tsukki and yams' room

everyone in the freeloaders gc could get diagnosed with something if someone took one peek at their chat LMAO

taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas @eggyrocks @pinkiscool @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @lunaviee @kitty-m30w (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[probablyasocialecologist]

“It was an assumption—almost an article of faith—amongst many biogeographers, ecologists, and paleoecologists that the great regional rainforests were, at Western contact, the product of natural climatic, biogeographic, and ecological processes,” wrote paleoecologist Chris Hunt, now based at Liverpool John Moores University, and his colleague, Cambridge University archaeologist Ryan Rabett, in a 2014 paper. “It was widely thought that peoples living in the rainforest caused little change to vegetation.” New research is challenging this long-held assumption. Recent paleoecological studies by Hunt and other colleagues show evidence of “disturbance” in the vegetation around Pa Lungan and other Kelabit villages, indicating that humans have shaped and altered these jungles not just for generations—but for millennia. Borneo’s inhabitants from a much more distant past likely burned the forests and cleared lands to cultivate edible plants. They created a complex system in which farming and foraging were intertwined with spiritual beliefs and land use in ways that scientists are just beginning to understand. Samantha Jones, lead author on this investigation and researcher at the Catalan Institute of Human Paleoecology and Social Evolution, has studied ancient pollen cores in the Kelabit Highlands as part of the Cultured Rainforest Project. This is a U.K.-based team of anthropologists, archaeologists, and paleoecologists that is examining the long-term and present-day interactions between people and rainforests. The project has led to continuing research that is forming a new scientific narrative of the Borneo highlands. People were most likely manipulating plants from as early as 50,000 years ago in the lowlands, Jones says. That’s around the time humans likely first arrived. Scholars had long classified these early inhabitants as foragers—but then came the studies at Niah Cave. There, in a series of limestone caverns near the coast, scientists found paleoecological evidence that early humans got right to work burning the forest, managing vegetation, and eating a complex diet based on hunting, foraging, fishing, and processing plants from the jungle. This late Pleistocene diet spanned everything from large mammals to small mollusks, to a wide array of tuberous taros and yams. By 10,000 years ago, the folks in the lowlands were growing sago and manipulating other vegetation such as wild rice, Hunt says. The lines between foraging and farming undoubtedly blurred. The Niah Cave folks were growing and picking, hunting and gathering, fishing and gardening across the entire landscape.

[...]

“The Cultured Rainforest project has shown how profoundly entangled the lives of humans and other species in the rainforest are,” says University of London anthropologist Monica Janowski, a member of the project team who has spent decades studying highland Borneo cultures. “This entanglement has developed over centuries and millennia and succeeds in maintaining a relatively balanced relationship between species.” Borneo’s jungle is, in fact, anything but untouched: What we see is a result of both human hands and natural forces, working in tandem. The Kelabit are a little bit farmer and a little bit forager with no clear line between, Janowski says. This dualistic approach to land use may reveal a deeper human nature. “Scratch any modern human and you will find, under the surface, a forager,” she says. “We have powerful foraging instincts. We also have powerful instincts to manage plants and animals. Both of these instincts have been with us for millennia.”

[exorcqism]

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

„𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑?”

CW;; general content. afab!reader, no sex, all fluff and the cute stuff. teen!geto, teen!gojo, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 1.88K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; since christmas is on monday,, why not make a themed story with the non-sorcerer hater?? in his teens ofc. hope ya enjoyyyyy reblog to support meeeee and if you want more :D

another note: trying a new layout 😵‍💫 i’ll see if i like it or not.

“satoru, no..” geto rolled his eyes. it was christmas time. a chilly saturday afternoon and suguru was going to cook a christmas dinner.

a ham (which he told himself that he’d buy on his own), yams, macaroni and cheese, dressing. whatever popped into his head to cook…another thing for him to groan at when he was struggling to follow the directions. and gojo attempting to bring his nonsense into his home wasn’t gonna solve anything.

“why nottt? you’re bringing that girl over, why can’t i come?” gojo asked. geto wasn’t really listening, he was in the middle of feeding his snake, suguru, which he named after himself because he couldn’t think of anything better and eventually, he thought the name fit.

“geto?”

“ah, sorry. like i said, no. you’ll make a mess and you’ll have kay all pissed off because you keep pulling on her tail. then you whine when she scratches you.” geto finally replied. kay was geto’s fluffy white cat with blue eyes. she loved being around geto and anyone else who he willingly brought around…but with gojo it was a love-hate relationship.

“she jumped on me first..” gojo trailed off. geto sighed, still holding the phone up to his ear. he knew that if he kept denying gojo of stopping by, he’d probably just pop up without his permission anyway.

“hurry up and get here.” geto said a bit sternly despite the small smile on his face. “and would you bring me some saké? i ran out last night.”

“on my way!” gojo beamed before hanging up. geto adjusted his sweater and shook his head as he placed his phone down on the counter. the slim male would put his hair up into his usual ponytail and begin to take everything out of the cabinets that he needed to cook.

kay would meow a bit loudly over the clanging of pots and pans, assuming that she’d get some food too.

“right…” geto sighed. “gimme a second.”

quickly, geto walked over to the cat feeder that he ordered off amazon a couple weeks ago and pressed the button to dispense some food and immediately, kay ran past him to eat her food.

the male felt like he was already about to go crazy because of all the things he had been doing at once. turning on the speaker, geto would turn on a song that he remembered that you recommended to him. he loved hearing your recommendations, even though he never listened half the time and he’d play it off like he forgot.

‘no one knows’ by brent faiyaz began playing from his tv and geto was already enjoying himself while he had been waiting on you and his second guest. he’d light a cigarette as he vibed to the song playing from his tv, sliding around the hardwood floor in his socks.

“one stick of butter…three tablespoons of flour…” geto mumbled the ingredients you wrote down to make macaroni, his index finger underlining each word as he read.

as geto began to cook, mixing ingredients together and tossing the partially finished product into the oven, the doorbell rang. he was kinda hoping it was gojo since he was getting thirsty. his choice was incorrect though. upon his snow covered doorstep, he saw you all bundled up in your cute puffy winter coat, grey scarf with a matching hat.

“hi,” you smiled at him as you stepped into the house, gently stomping the snow off your boots on the carpet. geto hugged you and gently kissed your head.

“hey, you been okay?” geto asked as he’d walk back into the kitchen. you take off your coat and everything you’ve been wearing to keep your warm and put it up on one of the clothing hangers in his closet.

“yeah, i’m fine besides nearly sliding off the road from the ice,” you chuckled. kay rubbed her head against your leg, greeting you before walking off. “you?”

“i just woke up not too long ago. i wanted to hurry up and cook before i forgot and i starve to death.” geto answered. you follow geto into the kitchen, and the place already smelled nice. this was normal behavior for geto though. he always kept things clean and smelling good. he’d freak out if someone (gojo) stepped on his carpet with his shoes on.

“you wouldn’t starve to death. you know i’ll come bring you something to eat…my family cooks still.” you say. geto nodded, barely listening to you as he quickly grabbed out some cups, expecting some saké when gojo made it there.

speaking of gojo, the front door swings open and a freezing gust of wind blows through the house. geto’s head snapped over to the front door and his pupils retracted out of pure shock and slight irritation.

“close the door, dammit.” geto shouted. gojo sprung through the door holding a brown paper bag and shut the door behind him.

“i’m here!” gojo said in a sing song tone.

“hey, jack frost.” you chuckled at gojo’s goofy entrance into your boyfriend’s home. it was a bit funnier knowing that geto was already sizzling in irritation.

“about time,” geto grumbled before snatching the bag from the icy haired male and peeking down into the bag. he pulled the glass from the bag and saw that it wasn’t exactly what he asked for. he sighed.

“i said saké not soju. and what the hell is this?” geto pulled out a treat that was wrapped up and a small paper bag.

“same difference…and it’s kikufuku,” gojo smiled, “i bought one but they gave me two extra. pretty interesting coincidence, huh?”

“you’re a pain in my ass already.” geto huffed, taking a bite out of the sweet treat. he raised his eyebrows, clearly enjoying it. the male held up the treat to your lips, which you would take a bite out of also. it was pretty good. you were expecting to hate it.

“go sit on the couch. don’t touch shit, don’t look at shit, just relax. i’m going to the store to go get a ham.” suguru instructed to gojo but he already had a feeling that gojo just wouldn’t listen.

“yes sir.” gojo put his thumb up before he’d pour himself some soju in one of the cups that geto had set out on the kitchen island and walked to the living room.

geto turned to you, taking a small drag from his cigarette. “you wanna go with me or do you wanna stay with …” geto pointed over in gojo’s direction. you smiled and nod.

“hey, i’m still here.” gojo shouted.

“shut up and drink your soju.”

twenty minutes later, you and geto arrive at the supermarket. the place was busy and geto wanted to be home as soon as he got the ham. while geto wanted to be in and out, you were wandering around, your eyes sparkling at the christmas decorations but grimacing when you saw the amount of krampus christmas cards on the shelves.

“ew..” you mumbled at the ugly art before walking off to find something else to entertain you. after a bit of walking, you found yourself in the bakery section. it smelled amazing. a bunch of fresh cookies and cupcakes were set out on the shelves and you couldn’t help but pick up a couple boxes. surely geto wouldn’t care.

“you’re gonna eat all this?” you heard a familiar voice say. you turned around to see geto who had been holding onto the shopping cart that had a bag, which you assumed was the ham.

“well, no. i was thinking that we have a little christmas party. all the food you’re making isn’t gonna be enough for just you and me…and gojo if you even invite him over for dinner.” you suggest. geto hummed.

“no.” he said bluntly. “eat all that stuff and share with gojo…you know how much he likes sweets and all that other junk.”

you sigh, knowing full well that geto would say no. as much as he liked being festive, he wasn’t going for a full on party. not at his place at least.

“you know what…i’ll think about it.” geto said. he didn’t wanna be a grinch but he also didn’t feel like looking at your sad and mopey face for the rest of the day because he said no to a christmas party.

your eyes light up and a big smile stretches across your lips before you hug geto tightly, obviously excited. suguru sighs but he smiles a bit himself. he couldn’t lie, he did enjoy seeing you happy. why not give your idea a chance?

when you both arrived back home, geto fumbled with the keys for a moment, his hands aching from the cold. when the door was finally unlocked, the cold winds rushed through the door, pushing the smoke that was coming from the kitchen out of the way. geto wasn’t worried because he didn’t smell any burning food. it was probably his incense.

geto was shocked. so shocked he almost dropped the food. he was able to hold onto it. the house was a bit of a mess. suguru was gone out of his terrarium, gojo was nowhere in sight at the moment, and kay…well she was fine. she was sitting on the cat tree looking more annoyed than choso on a wednesday morning.

“satoru!” geto yelled as he placed the ham down onto the kitchen island and began walking around the house quickly to find gojo. “i’m gonna kill him.” you heard the black haired male mumble as he checked each room…even the storage room.

gojo emerged from the dining room with suguru hanging around his shoulders. he had been wearing his round sunglasses and that white dress shirt that had the sleeves rolled up. the male lifted his hand and pulled the glasses down from over his eyes.

“oh. hey guys.” gojo smiled before geto took off his shoe and threw it at the other, aiming straight for the head. you couldn’t help but laugh when you heard the sound of the shoe hitting gojo’s head then bluntly hit the floor.

“satoru…” geto began, “what did i tell you when you first got here?” his teeth were clenched together and he had a smile on his face that obviously wasn’t very friendly.

“um…you said,” gojo paused, thinking of what was said. gojo knew better but he just wanted to make geto even more angry. “you said look at shit, touch shit…and don’t relax.”

“that isn’t what i said you mono-brain celled monkey.” geto hissed. he’d walk over to gojo, taking suguru off of his shoulders and returning the snake to his terrarium.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you clean up.” geto grumbled before pouring himself some of the soju that he swore up and down that he didn’t want to drink because he had a taste for saké instead.

“seriously?” gojo raised his eyebrows before being hit in the head with geto’s other shoe.

“get your ass in that living room and clean this hell hole up. and do it right!” geto glared at the icy haired male but his yelling and angry looks only made gojo laugh.

“okay okay, i’ll go clean. don’t drink up all the—”

“move it!”

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[fiercefauna]

This was part of the reason for my recent bout with anxiety - as you can see there’s a lot going on, and I don’t often attempt this kind of thing. Any who welcome to the Sanctuary! Formerly the Bismuth North Gate Mall, just grab your plague mask, park your crow-steed (Terra Corvus) pull up a chair as far as you can from anyone else, order a drink with an individually wrapped straw and try to pretend everything is still normal.

You can enjoy my concept art or keep reading for an additional tale with some lore.

Home and Family

“Mother, why is there a parking lot under the grass? Why does the Sanctuary say “Sears”? Did they build the new town over an older town?” Whitley was saying none of these things but I was fearing it. Barely four and already a historian, my - dream for a better future - had a habit of asking way too many questions. “Look!, there’s Aunt Yam!” I lifted my treasure on to my shoulders as it waved to the pale, bloated forms wandering the field beside the medical tent. 

Whitley called them Brontosaurs, but the subject of what piles actually were had never been broached. 

The Sanctuary had indeed once been a mall, having raised me and my siblings as though it were some benevolent corporate god. Though I soon tired of shopping, the promise of food, seasonal decorations, blue waterfalls and overgrown houseplants continued to call, and I answered perhaps too many times - until it had closed, presumably forever. But the coming of the crow-suits and the nightmare sickness they claimed to fight, had turned the vacant buildings once more into a beacon, with storefronts walled off to become homes and offices and issued vouchers that could be used to acquire sweetened or bitter drinks and other refreshments, patrons lifting the noses of their biomechanical masks to access a straw. 

My child was just as much a spawn of the miasma as the giants outside but it was not ready to know this, or understand the implications. While the disease, or Elder thing, as I’d grown to call it, almost with a guilty affection, had done horrible things to everyone I had previously known, without it, there would have been no Whitley, for it had provided the parts used to create my child, my celebration of finally finding a home. 

True my “husband” had been skeptical, leaving the sorcery all up to me, but he too was a product of this hell, for without the infection of Bismuth and its banishment to this hinterland, we never would have met each other. I could tell he had grown to love Whitley as much I did, even expressing concerns that I might be a bad influence.  

Francis beckoned from a table he had managed to occupy in the pavilion. The proximity of  free-range, giant afflicted to this fragile, wooden addition made many anxious despite the pile’s importance to miasmic science. With a med tent just across the field they were absolutely essential. No where else in our vicinity were they allowed so close to people on a regular basis and so close to Whitley, whom they had made almost from scratch and of whom were especially proud. 

[risewriter]

Can you do Leo comforting an upset in tears Mikey

ROTTMNT: Trust

Leonardo takes a deep sigh before knocking on Mikey’s door, though, the door opened on its own.

“Chello~?” Leo whispers, peeking into the room.

He finds a small turtle retreated into the corner of the room.

“Hey, Mike? Can you help us with dinner..?” Leon steps in closer. “Because Raph is confusing sweet potatoes and yam again. And- Uh..”

Used to Michael throwing a fit, Leo falls silent. He sits on the bed next to his brother.

“Something on your mind?” He fakes a snarky grin. “‘Cause, normally, you would be all like: Those are totally different! I can’t believe this!”

A little whimper resonates in the room.

“Leo.. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Make dinner..? Because we kinda-”

“No, protect others..”

Leo leans forward. “Whoa, whoa, whaaaat? Mike, you saved us and other people tons of times!”

“Maybe sometimes.. but, last mission, my Mystic Chucks lost control and hurt an alleyway dog.” Michael sniffles, burying himself in his shell.

“Psh, I’m sure that dog is alright! Worst case scenario you gave it a cool scar-“

“You don’t get it Leo!” Michael’s sudden raise of voice causes the slider to gulp.

Now standing on his feet, the box shell yells with a strained throat.

“First, it’s a dog, but who’s next?! Raph?! Donnie?! You..” Michael plops down next to his brother. “If I can’t trust myself, how can I be trusted around others..”

Tears roll down the orange turtle’s face. A few seconds pass before a hand lands on Mikey’s shell.

“Well, I kinda thought that trusting yourself and others was one of your best skills.” Leon shyly mutters, scratching his own nose.

Mikey’s eyes light up. “You.. You really think so?”

“Yeah I do!” Giving his little brother’s head a noogie, noises from the kitchen reach their ears.

“THEY ARE THE SAME, D!”

“Why are we still discussing this?! We’re not even having them for dinner!”

Leo stands up from the bed, giving his brother a hand to lift himself up with.

“You got this, Hermano?”

Mikey takes his hand with a confident smile.

“Trust me!”

[florsial]

Chinese Regulus who love language is food!! Adds a unique twist to common European dishes!! Fruit bowls as an apology!! Who personally designs traditional Chinese clothes for his kid(s)!! Who owns his own set of traditional clothing!! WeChat but literally never uses it!! All important details yes but the FOOD!!

He makes bian rou (Fujianese wonton soup) for James when he's sick and a bunch of other remedies in the form of soup! (James is too scared to admit to him that the black chicken herbal soup isn't all that good) (I agree I dread having to drink that sometimes). He used to send Sirius fried taro cakes in case Hogwarts didn't have any. When he and James are too tired to cook anything he whips up peanut butter noodles and calls it a day. Sirius puts all the yams in his rice congee into Regulus' bowl during breakfast!! Makes batches of mantou from scratch when he's stressed while the Pantheon is snagging the steamed buns every so often, he sends the remaining off to the Marauders, mostly just Sirius and James. WILL FIGHT SIRIUS TOOTH AND NAIL FOR THE LAST BBQ PORK BUN!!! He also makes sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves and has to charm them so Barty doesn't steal them before he steams them!! In fact! Regulus eats his zongzi plain with a shit ton of sugar while Sirius prefers them to be more savory and filled with mushrooms and chicken!!

[13a07s]

My Moon

(Tadashi Yamaguchi)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to craziiwolf]

Requested by: Myself

[Idea inspired by Captain Jack Sparrow]

Word Count: 3,454

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Just Yams being a skeptical but engaged and interested boyfriend of a witch

Wicca Practices

Disclaimer; it's been a hot minute since I was swimming in the world of Wicca so my information might be off from mis-memory and Google being a lair. Please (nicely) correct me on any wrong information

Part two?

———————————————————————

     "Where's my darling little star?"

     My head instantly snaps up from its lying position on my desk, turning toward the classroom door in search of my girlfriend. "Here I am," I call back, Tsukki's snicker following my eagerness. My eyes stay locked on her, getting more excited the closer to me she gets.

     The sound of her jewelry twinkling against each other mixes with the beating of my heart, the anticipation of her short walk from the door to my desk almost killing me. "There's the light in my darkness," she coos, settling next to my desk. The compliment - and just her in general - makes my cheeks heat up, embarrassment from everyone hearing her swirling in my head.

Her hands are in my hair instantly, petting me and adding to the growing embarrassment on my skin. "Good morning, Tsukki," she adds, taking a moment to greet my friend. Tsukki nods his head in acknowledgment.

     "Good morning, my Moon," I greet back, turning in my desk before wrapping my arms around her waist. I tilt my head, dotting her wrist and forearm with kisses.

Public displays of affection only add to my anxieties, but the small touches and kisses make her happy so I try my best to push my worries down. I always try to overcome them so my Moon can be wrapped up in a fraction of the intimacy she's always showering me with.

"Your jewelry is silver today," I point out, glancing over the bracelets my lips tumble over, the rings sliding through my hair, and the silver triangle earrings she has in.

     "Iron and lead, darling," she corrects, her nails gently scratching my scalp. "My horoscope said that my day 'will be made of the light of happiness. Despite the joys of the day, decisional difficulties will arise, turn toward the skies for wisdom'. So, tin for wisdom and lead for grounding to help hold onto my happiness."

     "And the triangles earrings because?"

     "Triangles help manifest a solid foundation and wisdom as well."

     My girlfriend is 'spiritual'. I'm never entirely certain what that means, but I've caught on to some of the things frowned upon in her religious practices. No blowing out candles, don't touch anything left in window sills, and under no circumstances am I allowed to touch anything on the little table with the red cloth.

     The few times I've messed up on the last one, I've been stuck on my knees, asking what she calls a deity for forgiveness. I don't remember what her deity is called or what deity it is. Roman or Greek or maybe one of the Christian ones. I don't know, but I know better than to cross said godly being though. I also know to greet said deity when I enter and leave the room.

     I've also learned a lot of things she does is for a reason, even if I don't understand the reasoning. She wears certain jewelry and colors depending on what she's trying to manifest. Whatever stones or rocks she has in her bag for the day depend on the same thing. Different things she cooks or weird jars she makes or other random things are more manifesting of my Moon.

     I might not understand but I find it interesting. As long as my Moon is happy I don't have an issue with how she chooses to manifest the things she wants for herself and those she cares for.

     "Want to hear your horoscope for the day?" She asks, a hand falling to cup my chin, the other one twirling the ends of my hair.

     My Moon tips my head up, my sight instantly locking on her sprinkling eyes. The feeling of her rings against my jaw is a nice comfort, one I've grown used to. "Of course."

     "You, my passionate Scorpio, will achieve a goal of yours today. Self-doubt will creep in. Don't let it fright you, for the stars are in your favor," she mutters, excitement to see how my day plays out lighting in her eyes.

     I smile up at her, gently squeezing her wrist as my thumb rolls over the pile of veins there. I'll admit some of her weird things and manifesting do come true, but most of the time I believe it's just a coincidence. However, seeing how the loose prediction aligns with my day is always fun. "Well, a goal I have for today is to pass the math test so maybe that'll be my achieved goal."

     "Maybe," my Moon hums, disapproval mixed with it. "My intuition says otherwise but it's your prediction so I guess your intuition is what matters." Her lips press against my hairline, peppering kisses across it before she lets me go.

     Her hands instantly dip into her bag, scrambling around in search of something. My Moon pulls out a small velvet sack, one that I recognize as the bag she uses to store whatever rocks she wants me to carry in my pocket for the day. I can't help but enjoy her excitement as she dumps the rocks out, preparing to give me a lecture on them.

"Alright, today I focused on luck and trying to counteract self-doubt to help you get to your goal," she starts, fingertips toying with the shiny rocks. Instantly, my hand goes out, waiting for her explanation. "Jade for luck," she mutters, placing a pretty green stone in my palm. "Tiger eye for self-esteem, rose quart for self-love - "

"And tourmaline for protection," I butt in, knowing that rock for sure. It's the only one she gives me every day so I've caught on to what it is and what my Moon thinks it does.

"Yes," she giggles, peaking my forehead again, before snatching her shiny stones back. She carefully places them back in their bag before handing it to me. "I hope you achieve one of your big goals today, Tadashi."

"Me too," I murmur, my heart beating a little faster. I know my Moon would support me in anything I decide to do, but it's always nice to hear her so willing to support me. "I'll see you at break?" I ask, my eyes taking a peak at the clock.

"Of course," she chirps, another big smile on her face. "Remember, positive thoughts manifest positive things. Keep your thoughts positive," my Moon reminds me like she does every morning. "Bye, Tadashi! Bye, Tsukki!" She almost sings, another kiss to my head before she floats out the door, off to her classroom. I swear it feels like all the warmth is sucked out of the room with her.

     "Your girlfriend is weird," Tsukki grumbles, rolling his eyes at himself more than me.

     "Like your girlfriend of the week is any better. I swear she's trying to slide you in every time she's near you. You're just jealous I have a smoking hot witchy girlfriend."

     He rolls his eyes again, a soft grin on his face. "Your girlfriend is just average if even that. What do I care if she gives you dumb rocks like a penguin? Or that she says weird spiritual things to you? It's whatever."

     "Sure. It's whatever," I mock, a prideful smile on my face. Tsukki is rarely jealous of me. Most of the time I'm jealous of him, so it's a nice change of pace.

                     ————————————

     My Moon's soft humming filters through the windows, Tsukki and I both looking toward the gym entrance, waiting for her. Some of the other girls are already here; the captain's girlfriend, Kinoshita's girlfriend, and a few of the girls crushing on Tsukki and Kageyama.

     When the humming gets louder, I quickly climb to my feet, making my way to the door. Tsukishima follows me, a few steps behind, and his pace is a lot slower. I recognize the tone as one of the soft lullabies she sings to her plants before bed. It's the one about lavenders and royalty.

When my Moon makes it to the door, her face lights up at the sight of me. "Hello my beautiful star," she coos, stepping forward to wrap her arms around my neck.

"Hi," I whisper, my cheeks heating up from her closeness.

"How was your last class, darling?" She asks, voice soaked in as much admiration as possible. Her arms are loose around me, fingertips barely toying with the cowlick in my hair.

"It was fine," I murmur, my fingers shaky and eyes scurrying around the gym as I rest my hands on her hips. "I'm struggling a bit with the new lesson. It's on trapezoid angles. It's difficult but I'm sure I'll be able to make my way through it."

"I know you will. You're so smart, Tadashi. A little more practice and you'll have it figured out." It feels like I'm melting into a puddle on the floor, my Moon's encouragement and pride in me making my skin sizzle.

My cheeks are stinging from how warm they are and from the grin on my face. This is why she's my Moon because she glows so bright that it makes me shine too. "I made good luck gifts for Tsukki and you," she hums, pulling away from me. "And the team of course, but Tsukki and you have special ones."

     My Moon digs around her bag, pulling out a thick jar no bigger than ten milliliters. Her hands cling to it, shaking a bit as her eyes are caught on the container. "This is the one for your team. I've never done one for multiple people so I'm a bit weary but I'm sure it'll be good enough. I... I, ah... used a yellow candle to seal it for focus and logic and clarity and such. Then... then there's mint - "

     "For protection," I butt in, settling my hands over hers, hoping it'll help calm her down. Mint is my Moon's favorite protection herb because 'it smells the best'.

     "Exactly," she chirps, her eyes settled on me now. "There's chamomile for calm nerves, sage for strength, bay, and rosemary for success, and then stormwater for energy and such. Well, and cause I think it makes it look like a cool globe," she rambles, shaking the jar at the end of her statement.

     A small smile rests on my face as I watch the different herbs float around in the vial. The white petals in the jar dance around with the yellows and greens of the herbs, making the container look like a globe made from a flower field.

     "What did you use to cleanse it?" I ask my usual question. I know it's something my Moon does before every jar of things she makes and it's something she doesn't usually mention, so when I ask about it she tends to get excited. She's always so excited to explain her things to me and I'm always happy to listen to her ramble.

     "Usually I use incense but there's this lullaby called 'Crow's Lullaby' so I cleansed your team's jar with a bell I rang to the rhythm of it."

     That's cute. My little spiritual girlfriend is so adorable and so invested in doing what she believes she can for my team. Tsukki is even touched by the gesture, his arms crossed over his chest, cheeks a bit pink, and eyes looking anywhere except my thrilled Moon.

     "Anyway," she starts, handing me the jar before digging through her bag again. "This one is yours!" She chirps, pulling out a smaller vial, about half the size of the one she made for the team.

     I look over the jar she made me. It's one of about twenty or so I've been given by my Moon. I keep them all unless she takes them back to 'correctly dispose and replace' them.

     There are a lot of things I have or do because of her. One of those things is a little baggy of whatever she has me keep by my bed for 'good dreams'. There's this white solid crystal slab she gave me too that she told me to put the sack on during the day to 'recharge and cleanse' the stones in the tiny satchel my sleep things stay in. Thinking of it now, I haven't had any nightmares since my Moon gave me that baggy.

     "For your jar, I sealed it with an orange candle for confidence. Mint for protection, of course. Then there's flickers of gold for success, black pepper to banish negativity, carnation for strength, cinnamon for luck, and finally, lavender for focus."

     "How'd you cleanse it?" I repeat, taking the small vial from her. I hold it, pressing it between my palms like my Moon has shown me how. As I listen to her answer, I try to manifest like she's been trying to teach me.

     Success and luck for the game. Focus, strength, and no negativity for my mind. Success and luck for the team. Focus, strength, and no negativity for my body. I continuously repeat my wants as I roll the jar between my hands, my focus not fully on the vial like it's supposed to be.

     "Apple Blossom incense, duh. I use Apple Blossom to cleanse everything for you." I know she does. Every witchy spiritual thing she's made me has always smelled like apples.

     My Moon pats my head, plopping a kiss on my cheek before she floats away to give Tsukishima his gift. "Tsukki," she calls, the airiness of her voice gone like it usually is when she speaks to someone who's not me. "Don't think I forgot about you."

"What's the point of giving me a jar of herbs if you made one for the team?" He grumbles, eyes and arms falling the closer my Moon gets to him.

"I have to make sure my boyfriend's boyfriend is taken care of, don't I?" She teases, focusing on her bags again. My Moon dances in her spot, shaking around the jar before holding it out to my friend.

"I'm not Yamaguchi's boyfriend," Tsukki hisses, reluctantly taking the vial. Studying it carefully before his attention falls back down. "What is in this tiny glass?" He asks, shaking it a bit, sights back on the spiritual jar.

My Moon's hands jump up, fixing how my friend is holding his jar. "For your jar, Tsukki, mint again for protection, there's acorn chucks for good luck, borage leaves for strength, lilac for luck, oregano for health since Tadashi says you're fingers get nicked a lot when you block, and sunflower petals for energy. Unlike the others, I sealed it with yellow string to help start the manifesting of a better friendship between us. I'm not used to using string for sealing so be careful shaking it."

Tsukishima doesn't believe any of my Moon's spiritual stuff; even now I can see it in his eyes, but he appreciates the offering. That I can see in the way he obeys her, holding the jar correctly, and the way his cheeks are dusted and huffy from her support of him. His eyes skirt toward me before dropping down again, caught on the vial mixture. "Uh... how'd you clean it?" Tsukki asks, trying to follow my example of the conversation.

"I cleansed it with moon water." My friend's face drops at the answer, his huffiness from not understanding my Moon's rituals and from always wanting answers. "It just felt right using it to cleanse your jar. I'm not sure why but Artemis and Apollo both seemed to agree on it. Let me tell you, it's rare they both answer so I figured they were right."

"Artemis and Apollo... as in... Greek Gods?"

"Ya," my Moon chirps, turning away from my friend. As she walks my way, Tsukki sends me 'she's crazy' eyes, making me grin. "My star," she purrs, her arms settling around my neck again.

     "My pinch server," Coach's voice booms from behind me, startling me and instantly making my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

     "Of course, Ukai-San," my Moon answers, pulling away from me. "I didn't mean to make a ruckus."

     "You didn't. I just don't need Yamaguchi in his head during the practice game. He has a new serve to try and I don't need you psyching him out." I want to crawl into a hole and vanish. I want to crawl into a hole with Tsukki and my Moon, then vanish. This is so embarrassing.

     She giggles, fingertips dancing over mine to take her present for the team from me. "I'm not going to psych him out. I do have a gift for you. Well, you and the team."

     Coach Ukai looks at the vial, confused eyes flickering toward me before he takes it. "This... this a jar of dirt... and water," he mutters, shaking the vial so it swirls like a globe again.

     "Pedals and herbs, actually, but ya."

     Coach looks at her again, slowly blinking as he shakes the jar some more, keeping it constantly on snow globe mode. "Is... the jar of dirt... going to help?" He slowly asks, skeptialness soaked in his words.

     My Moon raises her hand, ready to take the vial from him. "If you don't want it, give it back. I'll dispose of it properly."

     "No," he yelps, holding the present to his chest. "It's the team's jar of dirt now. Sorry, jar of flowers, herbs, and water."

     "Then it helps," she giggles, plopping another kiss on my cheek before she walks away. My eyes trail after my Moon, watching her greet the other girlfriends before settling next to Captain's girlfriend on the floor; the two girls instantly chatting.

     "Your girlfriend," Coach starts, pulling my attention back toward him. "Gave us a jar of dirt."

     "It's... um... a manifestation device for her religion."

     "What might that be?"

     "Wicca," I murmur, eyes cast toward my Moon again. I wonder if she has ever done a love jar or candle on me. Or maybe some other manifestation thing. I should ask after the game.

     "I don't know what that is."

     "Like modern paganism."

     "Like witches?" Coach yelps, clinging to the jar tighter. "Did she curse us? Why'd you piss off a witch?"

     I shake my head at him, a grin painting on my face. "It's a blessing for the team, Coach. She's trying to manifest success and strength and luck and etcetera for us."

     He stays quiet for a moment, the both of us looking at my blinged-out girlfriend. The grey - not silver, as I learned this morning - jewelry looks good on her, but I prefer my Moon decorated in gold jewelry. She insists with the nickname that silver would be better but I still like gold on her wrists more.

     "What am I supposed to do with the jar of dirt or pedals or whatever?"

     "Um... well... I hold my jar between my hands like this, but my Moon says touching it however feels right should work," I start, showing him how I to keep the vial pressed between my palms. "Then she says to just have good thoughts that align with the substances and just do whatever feels right with your hands. I roll the jar as I repeat my thoughts," I finish, twirling the jar between my palms to show him.

     "Am I supposed to do that?"

     I shrug, glancing at my Moon again. She's laughing, head tilted back as she giggles at whatever the third year said to her. "Since it's for the team I'd assume any and all members of the team can use it to manifest if they'd like."

     "What the hell are we supposed to think while we're holding the jar?"

     "Thoughts of calm nerves, strength, and success for ourselves and the team."

     "Then what?"

     "Just keep it under the bench, I guess," I answer, shrugging my shoulders for the millionth time. I'm not the one to be asked these things. "I keep the ones she gives me for about a month before she takes them to do I don't know what and she usually replaces them soon after."

     "If this works you can't break up with her until after the season."

     "I've been with my Moon for almost two years. The only way my terms will let her stop being my girlfriend is when I upgrade her to fiancé."

     "Cute," Coach mumbles, rolling the vial between his hands as I showed him. "Disgusting, but cute. Come on. Let's go do your girlfriend's manifestation thingy before the game starts." My heart skips a beat at Coach Ukai's orders. I don't know how I expected him to respond, but it makes me giddy that he's supporting my girlfriend's rituals. I can't wait to tell my Moon she's glowing for more than just me now.

[uchechiuchenyi]

The Four-midables #1

Mystery of the Missing School Bags

The sun hovered lazily above the rooftops of Umuike, a small, vibrant town nestled between green hills and dusty footpaths. The scent of akara frying in the distance mingled with the earthy smell of red clay after morning rain.

Chike raced barefoot through the narrow alleys, a satchel bouncing on his back and laughter spilling from his lips.

“Last one to school buys groundnut cake!” he called over his shoulder, though no one was chasing him.

Chike’s world was far from perfect. His family’s one-room hut perched at the edge of town was patched with rusted zinc and woven raffia mats. They didn’t have much, but they had each other—and to Chike, that was everything. His shirts were faded, his shorts had seen better days, and his hair looked like it had wrestled with the wind and lost. But his smile—his smile could chase away storm clouds.

At the other end of town, in a sprawling mansion guarded by iron gates and silent security cameras, lived Nnayelugo. His name meant “Father has bestowed honour/excellence,” and he carried himself like it. His crisp white uniform never had a wrinkle, his shoes shone like polished mirrors, and his homework was always done before dinner.

His parents were high-flying business moguls who believed in discipline, achievement, and the power of planning. While Chike’s home rang with laughter and stories, Nnayelugo’s echoed with quiet study, clicking keyboards, and the occasional clink of cutlery.

They should never have been friends. But fate—clever old fate—had other ideas.

It started on a Tuesday, the kind of day that held no hint of the magic to come.

Chike had forgotten his pencil case. Again.

He scratched his head and looked around the classroom. It was an international school that he had no business attending. Luckily, scholarships from well-meaning board members of their school had made his presence there possible.

Still, he was not intimidated by the way they looked and spoke like they were out of his league. He cleared his throat.

“Eh… who can borrow me a pencil biko?” he asked, flashing a hopeful grin.

Most of the class ignored him. Some snickered. But Nnayelugo looked up from his desk, straightened his tie, and pulled out a brand-new mechanical pencil—the kind that clicked.

He stretched it out without a word.

“Ah-ah! Thank you, Chairman!” Chike beamed. “See your pencil! It’s doing ‘tick-tick’ like remote control.”

Nnayelugo raised an eyebrow. “It’s called a mechanical pencil. It doesn’t need sharpening.”

“Wow. Is it from America?”

“Japan.”

Chike bent his head and chuckled softly. Surprised at the reaction, Nnayelugo smiled and said,

“Nweruzie ya (you can take it), it’s yours now.”

“Eziokwu? Thank you so much!” Chike exclaimed, his eyes beaming as he slapped Nnayelugo’s palm in appreciation.

From that moment, something clicked—like the pencil.

At lunch, Chike plopped down beside Nnayelugo, tray in hand. “Let me balance here, jare. Your side dey breeze.”

“You’re supposed to sit with your group,” Nnayelugo replied, referring to the people Chike usually sat with at lunch time.

“You’re my group now,” Chike declared with a grin.

Over time, they discovered that beneath their differences, they balanced each other. Chike brought wild ideas and belly laughs; Nnayelugo brought calm strategy and order.

And soon, two more would join their curious circle.

Amara was the class genius, the kind of girl who finished books the same day she bought them. She wore her glasses like a crown and could quote Chinua Achebe and J.K. Rowling in the same breath.

Kosi, on the other hand, was quieter, always doodling in the margins of her notebooks. Her drawings breathed with color and imagination—trees that danced, lions that smiled, and girls with wings.

One day during recess, Chike saw Kosi sketching a flying yam (yes, a yam with wings).

“Ah! Kosi the Artist! That yam go reach London o,” he said.

Kosi giggled. “It’s flying to space.”

“Better! Nigeria’s first yam-stronaut!”

Amara wandered over, curious. “You know… if we attach tiny rockets under the tuber, it could actually launch.”

Nnayelugo adjusted his glasses. “Not unless we calculate the thrust-to-weight ratio and stabilize the fuel—”

“Ogbeni!” Chike shouted. “Calm down before you turn my yam into an exam!”

They all burst out laughing.

From that day, the four became inseparable. At school, they sat together, ate together, learned together. After school, they played Ludo under the mango tree near Chike’s house or debated stories from Amara’s latest novel.

They didn’t have a name yet. But together, they were already something special.

What they didn’t know—what none of Umuike knew—was that the universe had chosen them.

And very soon, it would test them in ways they couldn’t imagine.

***

It started like any other walk home.

The sun was already yawning, dipping below the roofs of Umuike as children streamed out of the school gates. Crickets chirped lazily in the grass, and the air smelled of roasted plantain and distant rain.

Chike balanced his backpack on his head like a bucket. “See me now—fashion model of Umuike!” he declared, striking a pose.

Nnayelugo rolled his eyes, clutching his books. “One day you’ll drop your maths textbook in the gutter.”

“Then maths will finally drown, and I’ll be free!” Chike laughed.

Amara giggled, tucking a book under her arm. “Don’t listen to him, Nna. He’s just afraid of long division.”

“True,” Kosi added with a shy smile. “But he’s good at dodging chalk when the teacher aims.”

They were halfway between school and Chike’s house when the air changed.

A sharp, unsettling silence fell. The kind that made birds stop singing. The kind that made your skin prickle.

Then—rustling.

From the shadows between two houses, they emerged.

Three figures, tall and looming, their faces hidden behind black scarves. They carried long sticks—maybe not real guns, but dangerous enough. One of them dragged a sack behind him. Another had mismatched shoes, one green, one blue. The tallest one had a scar slicing through his left eyebrow.

“Drop your bags,” the scarred one growled. “Now!”

The children froze.

“Run!” Amara whispered.

But their legs wouldn’t move.

Chike’s mouth was suddenly dry. Nnayelugo clutched his bag tighter. Kosi whimpered slapping her hand gently as an insect bit her despite the commotion. Amara stepped in front of them instinctively.

“Don’t come closer,” she said, though her voice trembled.

The bandits laughed. “Or what? You’ll throw your erasers at us?”

And then it happened.

A pulse. Like the beat of a distant drum. The world slowed.

Chike blinked—and suddenly the trees around him looked frozen. A fly hovering nearby seemed suspended in air. He took a step and felt… weightless. Fast. Like lightning in sneakers.

Nnayelugo’s eyes widened. Numbers, shapes, and patterns swam in his vision. He could see a way out. He could calculate it. Every angle. Every step.

Amara opened her mouth to scream, but instead of words, a thunderous sound erupted—a mighty BOOM that cracked a nearby window and sent dust spiraling into the sky.

Kosi stared at her trembling hands—and gasped. They were glowing. A soft, golden light pulsed from her fingertips.

“Guys…” she whispered. “What is happening to us?”

Instinctively, she placed her hands on the insect bite and it healed immediately. Her eyes widened in surprise.

The bandits were just as stunned. One stumbled back, tripped on a stone, and fell into the gutter.

“What kind of juju is this?!” he shouted.

Chike zipped around them in a blur, snatching their sack and dumping its contents—a few wallets, a broken wristwatch, and what looked like a stolen shoe.

“Y’all need fashion help, not robbery,” he said, dropping the mismatched sneakers in front of them.

Enraged, one of the bandits pushed Chike and he tripped, fell and bruised his ankle.

Nnayelugo, standing behind a pile of bricks, shouted, “Kosi! Shine your hands on Chike’s leg—he’s injured.”

Kosi knelt beside Chike and placed her hands gently on his ankle. A warm light spread, and the pain melted away like ice under the sun.

Amara, now fully aware of her power, stepped forward and screamed again, not in fear—but with force.

BAMMM!

A ripple of sound knocked two bandits off their feet.

The scarred leader turned to run.

“Not so fast!” Chike called out, appearing in front of him like a ghost. “Return the stolen items, or face Round Two!”

The bandit dropped his stick and ran, leaving his sack and pride behind.

Silence fell again. The children stood there, panting, hearts pounding.

They stared at each other, eyes wide with wonder.

“Did… did that really just happen?” Kosi whispered.

“I think—I think we have powers,” Amara said, her voice shaky but filled with awe.

“I can see equations in mid-air,” Nnayelugo muttered. “It’s like… my brain is a calculator on fire.”

“I ran like… like a goat chased by fire,” Chike said with a grin.

“You always run like that,” Amara teased.

Chike shrugged. “But this time, I didn’t even sweat!”

They all laughed—half in shock, half in relief.

“What now?” Kosi asked, still glowing faintly.

Chike stepped forward, fists on his hips. “Now? We form a team. A super team. Like the Avengers… but with Nigerian swag.”

Amara raised an eyebrow. “What do we call ourselves?”

Nnayelugo adjusted his glasses. “We’ll figure it out. But one thing’s clear—we’re not normal kids anymore.”

The four of them looked around—at the discarded sticks, the empty street, and the sunset casting long shadows behind them.

Something had changed.

And it was just the beginning.

***

The next morning, the school buzzed like a disturbed beehive.

“Another bag is gone!”

“Mine too—vanished! Just like that!”

“Somebody must be doing jazz!”

Chike leaned on the wall outside their classroom, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “That’s four school bags in one week,” he said.

“Five,” Amara corrected, holding up a notebook. “I just interviewed Chiamaka from Primary Six. Her bag disappeared during break.”

Nnayelugo pulled out his notepad and scribbled something furiously. “That’s a pattern,” he said. “Most of the missing bags were taken during lunch or break time. And they were all left unattended in Classrooms B or C.”

Chike’s eyes lit up. “So we’re not just superkids. We’re detectives too!”

Kosi tilted her head. “But why would someone steal school bags? It’s not like they’re filled with money.”

“Unless…” Amara leaned in. “…someone needs supplies and doesn’t know how to ask.”

They all exchanged glances.

This was no ordinary theft. Something deeper was going on.

“Let’s investigate,” Nnayelugo said, his voice steady. “With our powers.”

“Operation Catch the Bag Snatcher!” Chike grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s gooo!”

That afternoon, they split up like a well-oiled machine.

Chike, now lightning-fast, zipped across the school grounds, checking classrooms, peeking under desks, and darting behind water tanks. To onlookers, he was just a blur of energy.

“Nothing under the staircase… no footprints by the back fence,” he murmured. “But wait—what’s that?”

He spotted a faint trail of crumbs—chin-chin, maybe?—leading away from Classroom C.

Nnayelugo remained stationed in the library, surrounded by a pile of notebooks and a homemade map of the school.

“If I were a bag thief, where would I hide my loot?” he muttered, connecting red strings between dots on the map like a crime show detective.

Suddenly, his pencil froze mid-air.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “All missing bags were near windows. And there’s a big drain behind the classroom wall.”

Amara took the boldest route. Standing in the middle of the school field, she cupped her hands and let her voice boom like a town crier.

“LISTEN UP! If you’ve seen anything strange—ANYTHING AT ALL—come talk to me! And no, this is not a prank!”

Some students laughed. Others whispered. But a few stepped forward.

“I saw someone sneaking around with two bags,” one whispered. “But I didn’t get a good look.”

“I heard a sound coming from the art room late in the afternoon,” another said. “Like something falling.”

Kosi moved quietly, her glowing hands hidden in her sleeves. She focused on the students who looked upset—those who hadn’t spoken up, but whose eyes held worry.

“You okay?” she asked gently.

One younger boy sniffled. “My brother’s bag was taken. He cried all night. He thinks he won’t be able to write his exams.”

Kosi smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. We’ll find it. I promise.”

As she placed a hand on his shoulder, her healing energy pulsed—just enough to calm his fear.

Later that evening, they gathered under the mango tree by Chike’s house—now their official headquarters.

“Someone is sneaking through the back drain to grab the bags,” Nnayelugo explained. “They’re picking classrooms near windows, probably during break when everyone’s out.”

“Which means the thief knows our schedule,” Amara added.

Chike tapped his foot. “Could be a student.”

Kosi’s eyes widened. “Maybe they’re… desperate?”

Silence.

That single word turned their mission from catching a criminal to understanding a person.

“We need to find out why before we decide what to do,” Amara said softly.

Chike nodded. “Then tomorrow, we lay a trap.”

“A brilliant one,” Nnayelugo smiled. “Let’s put our powers to work.”

The next day, the plan was simple but brilliant.

Chike would place a decoy bag by the classroom window and hide nearby.

Nnayelugo would monitor movement from the rooftop using binoculars he borrowed from the science lab.

Amara would patrol the hallways, ready to sound an alarm.

Kosi would stay close to the supposed exit point—the drain.

Everything was set.

They waited.

Ten minutes. Nothing.

Then—

Rustle.

A shadow moved toward the window.

Chike held his breath. “Almost there…”

The figure reached for the bag.

Amara’s voice sliced through the air like thunder. “HEY YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!”

The figure froze—but before they could run, Chike zoomed forward, blocking the path.

The others quickly surrounded the culprit.

And then… they gasped.

It wasn’t a stranger.

It was Ebere, a shy JSS 2 student who rarely spoke in class. Her uniform was torn at the collar, her eyes wide with fear.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. “I just… I didn’t have books. Or pens. My parents lost their shop. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Kosi stepped forward, glowing hands outstretched—not to punish, but to comfort.

“We believe you,” she said gently. “But there’s a better way.”

Later that week, Ebere was sitting with them under the mango tree, laughing for the first time in weeks.

Nnayelugo had bought her new supplies with help from his parents. Amara had told Ebere’s story during assembly, and students came forward with books and extra pens which Chike helped her organize. Kosi had become her quiet anchor, reminding her daily that asking for help wasn’t a weakness.

The Four-midibles—yes, that was now their official name—had done more than stop a thief.

They’d turned a mystery into a mission.

And as they watched the sun melt into the horizon once more, Chike grinned.

“What’s next for the Four-midibles? Catching ghosts? Fighting aliens? Winning Inter-House Sports?”

Nnayelugo chuckled. “Who knows?”

Amara adjusted her glasses. “But one thing’s clear—we’re not normal kids anymore.”

Kosi smiled. “And the world better get ready.”

***

After Ebere’s confession and the return of the stolen school bags, most students assumed the mystery was over.

But Nnayelugo wasn’t convinced.

“There’s still something off,” he muttered one afternoon, spreading out his notebook on the table under the mango tree.

“What do you mean?” Chike asked, tossing roasted groundnuts into his mouth.

“Three of the bags were taken after we caught Ebere,” Nnayelugo said. “And in each case, the bag disappeared from the same classroom—Classroom 4C.”

Amara’s eyes narrowed. “So Ebere might not have been acting alone?”

“Or maybe someone took advantage of the distraction,” Kosi added.

They looked at each other.

“Looks like the game’s not over,” Chike said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. “Detective Four-midibles—assemble!”

The next morning, the team arrived early and slipped into Classroom 4C.

Chike scanned the room with super-speed eyes. “Everything looks normal. But smells like groundnut oil and mystery.”

Nnayelugo dropped to the floor and began tapping on the tiles with a ruler.

Tap. Tap. Hollow tap.

He froze. “There’s a space under here.”

They helped him move the desk. Sure enough, one tile sounded different. Kosi crouched down and pressed her glowing palm against it. The tile warmed, shimmered—then popped loose.

Below it was a small wooden compartment, covered in chalk dust. Inside, crammed tightly, were four stolen school bags… and a piece of folded paper.

Chike carefully opened it.

Scrawled in shaky handwriting were the words:

“You’ll never catch me.”

“Another thief,” Amara breathed.

“Or the real one,” Nnayelugo said grimly.

That afternoon, the Four-midibles gathered behind the classroom block, hidden in the tall grass.

“We set a trap,” Chike said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“I’ll be on the roof again,” Nnayelugo offered. “This time with a camera app running.”

“Decoy bag goes in the classroom,” Amara nodded. “And I’ll hide in the back closet.”

Kosi added, “I’ll stay by the hallway, near the stairs. If they try to run, I can calm them before they panic.”

“Operation Ghost Thief,” Chike grinned. “Let’s catch this phantom.”

The trap was perfect.

The bag sat neatly on the floor of Classroom 4C, its strap deliberately sticking out—just enough to tempt someone.

The sun dipped low.

Footsteps echoed faintly. A figure entered the room and glanced around.

They tiptoed toward the bag.

As they knelt to lift it, Amara sprang out from the closet. “GOTCHA!”

The figure screamed and tried to run—but Kosi stepped out of the hallway, her hands glowing soft and warm.

“It’s okay,” she said gently.

Nnayelugo descended from the roof just as Chike arrived in a blur.

The thief slumped to the floor.

It was Tochukwu, a quiet boy from JSS 1 who rarely spoke unless spoken to.

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” he said quickly. “I—I just… my sister’s bag was taken. We couldn’t afford a new one. I took the others so I could swap supplies. I didn’t know what else to do.”

There it was again—that ache. That deep, quiet pain of kids carrying burdens too big for their shoulders.

Amara sat beside him. “You could’ve told someone.”

“No one listens,” Tochukwu whispered. “At home, everything is always about survival. And at school, I just… disappear.”

Kosi placed a hand on his back. “Not anymore.”

The next week was full of change.

The principal held a school-wide assembly to address the disappearances, this time not with punishments or threats, but with a call for kindness.

“Some of your classmates are struggling,” she said. “Let’s be a school where no one has to steal to feel seen.”

Students donated notebooks and pencils to a new “Sharing Shelf” in the library. Teachers arranged tutoring sessions and free lunch tokens for students who needed them.

As for Tochukwu, he wasn’t punished—but he did have to apologize to each class. It was hard, but the Four-midibles stood beside him through it all.

One quiet Friday, the team returned to the mango tree.

“We’ve solved two mysteries now,” Chike said, stretching out on the grass. “I feel like we should have theme music.”

Amara nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe a trumpet solo for me.”

“And drums for me,” Chike added. “Fast ones!”

“Quiet violins for me,” Kosi said.

“Something with logic and precision,” Nnayelugo muttered. “Like Bach.”

Chike sat up. “So what’s next?”

Nnayelugo looked into the distance. “I don’t know. But something tells me… the world’s not done with us yet.”

Amara raised an eyebrow. “Premonition?”

“Math,” Nnayelugo replied. “And a hunch.”

The sun dipped behind the hills. The wind rustled the leaves above them.

Far beneath their feet, in the very basement of the school, a dusty, ancient door waited in the shadows… untouched for years.

And something behind it had just stirred.

*** The week after Tochukwu’s confession, the school felt different.

Students smiled more. Teachers softened. And the Four-midibles? They had gone from “those kids with imagination” to heroes.

“See as they’re greeting us like celebrities,” Chike whispered one morning as they walked past the assembly ground.

“We’re not celebrities,” Amara said, trying to sound serious. “We’re just…”

“Awesome?” Chike offered.

“Magical?” Kosi added with a grin.

“Mutually beneficial collaborators with enhanced abilities,” Nnayelugo said.

The others blinked.

“What?” he shrugged. “I’ve been reading thesauruses for fun.”

The bell rang, but instead of heading to class, they gathered under the mango tree—now their official headquarters. Nnayelugo pulled out a small bag filled with supplies: notebooks, erasers, pencils, storybooks.

“For Tochukwu,” he said. “And any other student who might be struggling.”

“We’re starting our own charity now?” Chike asked.

Amara nodded. “We’re using our powers for more than battles. We’re building people up.”

Kosi’s hands glowed softly. “Let’s call it Project Light.”

“Eyaa,” Chike said dramatically. “Our hearts are now matching our powers!”

Everyone laughed.

What none of them noticed—hidden behind the tall grasses near the school fence—was a small glint of something… watching.

Waiting.

***

It was supposed to be a normal Saturday.

But when Chike kicked a football too hard and it flew behind the school’s old storehouse, what he found changed everything.

“Guys! Come quick!” he shouted.

The others came running. Behind the pile of dusty shelves and unused science tables stood a door—tall, wooden, ancient-looking. Vines clung to its frame like secret whispers.

“There’s something carved here,” Amara said, tracing the symbols.

Kosi read it aloud. “For those who seek truth, knock three times and prove your worth.”

“Sounds like the beginning of an epic movie,” Chike said. “I’m in.”

Amara knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

CLUNK.

The door creaked open with a groan, releasing a gust of musty air and mystery.

They stepped into a dimly lit underground room filled with strange symbols, dusty scrolls, bubbling beakers, and blinking machines that hummed quietly despite decades of silence.

A journal sat on a pedestal at the center. Its leather cover was cracked with age.

Nnayelugo opened it.

“The Potential Amplifier,” he read. “Created to unlock the hidden gifts within humanity…”

“Wait,” Kosi said, her voice trembling. “You think our powers—came from this?”

They all stared at the strange machine in the corner—a twisted cluster of wires, crystals, and copper coils.

“Let’s find out,” Amara whispered.

***

The journal belonged to Dr. Elendu, a brilliant but misunderstood scientist who once taught in the school decades ago.

“I designed the Amplifier,” he wrote, “to awaken the true potential within young minds. But the school board feared its power and locked it away.”

As the Four-midibles read, they learned that Dr. Elendu believed children held the strongest dormant abilities, especially when they combined intelligence, emotion, courage, and imagination.

“Like… us,” Chike murmured.

“And we didn’t just get powers randomly,” Nnayelugo said. “We activated them.”

Amara turned the page. “He left a blueprint. Instructions. Notes about side effects. Tests.”

Kosi glanced at the machine. “It’s beautiful… but also dangerous.”

They all looked at each other.

“Do we keep digging?” Amara asked.

Chike grinned. “Has any great adventure ever started with someone saying no?”

The Amplifier looked like a cross between a spaceship engine and a juju altar.

It glowed faintly as the children approached, responding to their presence.

Nnayelugo translated the instructions: “We each need to channel our energy into it. But if we’re not in sync, it could backfire.”

Chike cracked his knuckles. “Let’s synchronize, like dance steps.”

They each placed a hand on the central orb.

A pulse surged through the room. The lights flickered. Symbols on the walls shimmered. The Amplifier trembled.

And then—FLASH!

Light exploded like fireworks. The room shook.

When the glow faded, they looked at each other.

“I feel… different,” Amara whispered.

“I can hear things,” Nnayelugo muttered. “People’s thoughts. Emotions. Patterns in speech.”

Chike leapt, landed perfectly, and zipped across the room. “Speed and precision!”

Kosi’s hands flared with golden light. “I can feel pain… and fix it from the inside.”

Amara looked at a dusty chair and whispered. Her voice shook the entire table behind it. “Oops.”

Their powers had leveled up.

But then… a screen flickered on in the corner. Static gave way to a video.

It was Dr. Elendu himself.

“If you’re seeing this, it means the Amplifier is active. But beware—if it falls into the wrong hands, its power could destroy everything.”

They stared at the screen.

Too late.

Someone else already knew.

***

The principal burst into their classroom two days later.

“Everyone, return to your homes. The school is under lockdown.”

Whispers. Panic.

“What happened?” Chike asked.

Nnayelugo checked the school’s security cameras through his hacked tablet.

A group of rogue scientists—disguised as maintenance workers—had entered the school and taken over the old lab.

“They’re looking for the Amplifier,” he said.

“How did they even know about it?” Amara gasped.

Chike’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Someone told them.”

The screen suddenly glitched, and a face appeared.

Mrs. Okoro.

Their science teacher.

Her calm smile sent a chill down their spines.

“Hello, children,” she said. “We meet again.”

“You?!” Chike shouted at the screen. “But—you helped us with science fair projects!”

Mrs. Okoro smirked. “And you helped me discover the Amplifier’s location. You were the perfect test subjects.”

“But why?” Amara demanded.

“To unlock ultimate power,” Mrs. Okoro replied coldly. “You think small. You want to help students. I want to change the world.”

“With chaos?” Nnayelugo asked.

“With control,” she answered. “And now that the Amplifier is working… you can’t stop me.”

The screen blinked off.

Kosi’s hands trembled. “She was with us all along.”

“She manipulated us,” Amara muttered.

“No,” Chike said. “She underestimated us.”

They snuck into the lab after dark, using the tunnel behind the storeroom.

The rogue scientists wore lab coats, scanning blueprints, connecting wires to the Amplifier.

Mrs. Okoro stood in the middle, arms crossed, power surging around her.

“Now,” whispered Nnayelugo.

The battle exploded.

Chike blurred across the room, knocking out power cables.

Nnayelugo calculated weak points and sent shockwaves through equipment.

Amara’s voice shook the walls, disarming security guards with a single shout.

Kosi raced to fallen teachers, healing their wounds with a touch.

But Mrs. Okoro was powerful—too powerful.

She activated a device, pulling energy from the Amplifier.

“I’m unstoppable!” she screamed.

A beam of dark light burst from the machine.

The room crackled with energy.

The Four-midibles, bruised but determined, gathered in front of her.

“You can’t win,” Kosi said gently. “Even with power, you’re alone.”

Mrs. Okoro laughed. “I don’t need anyone.”

“But that’s why you’ll lose,” Amara said. “Because we’re stronger together.”

The four joined hands.

Their powers merged.

A spiral of energy burst from them—light and sound, speed and healing, strategy and heart.

They hurled it toward the Amplifier.

The machine shuddered, sparked… and shut down.

Mrs. Okoro screamed as her power drained. The lab went dark.

It was over.

The town hailed them.

The school board awarded them medals. Dr. Elendu’s hidden journal was archived for study, and the Amplifier was locked away—with them as its guardians.

But the greatest reward?

Their friendship.

And the knowledge that whatever came next—mystery, villain, or secret—they would face it together.

As the wind rustled the mango tree leaves above their heads, Amara whispered:

“This is just the beginning.”

And somewhere… in the shadows… something else stirred.

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, pt. 21

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49342666/chapters/166968079

Vivec's letter, small as it was, questioned Haj-deek about the presence of fire to dispose of it. The second was about how she should stay the course. The third was that she needed ask the dovahfly about his "code," to make it less likely that they would be caught in future.

"Stay the course" Vivec wrote, "Until a plan is fully formed. - . "

She felt both slightly insulted about that and baffled at the same time. If he already knew what exactly that stuff was he gave her why didn't he TELL her what to do with it? Why didn't HE help her form a more solid plan? If she could only get out, and talk to him directly...

She sighed, and looked down at the letter about the dovahfly. It seemed to see the letter, and tapped at the 'code' word. Once she took out the paper she'd made for it with the letters, it tapped at 'A'. Then it tapped at Vivec's letter again. It took her a minute or two to understand it was tapping at the . and -

A. Then the dot. Then the - .

Another minute to understand it meant that it was trying to tell her A meant one dot and one line.

"Oh, this is your code."

One tap on her hand, until she wrote it herself. Then it tapped her hand and gave a gentle swipe, to (she supposed) reinforce the idea.

She went on to B.

Swipe, tap tap tap.

"So a line, and then three dots..."

This, she was realizing, would be a LOT easier to hide than notes full of actual words. It (he, she kept having to correct herself) could easily tap or swipe on her hand too, instead of scratching about and potentially having her misunderstand. There WAS no easy misunderstanding with the other way.

"You are a smart little guy," she said, "Aren't you?"

YES.

She practiced A through E in the dovahfly's code until she could write out any of them in any order, and only after that did she burn the paper she was practicing on and go to sleep.

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

Haj-deek dreamed, oddly enough, of her mother. There were parts cut away, and she couldn't really understand what was being said, but...she saw her there. Smiling and hopeful, despite the obvious problem.

Mother, she tried to think. There was a pang in her chest a moment later. For all that she'd wanted a mother, she couldn't seem to feel as much as she expected from seeing her this time.

Was it because she wasn't really there? She didn't know for sure, she just knew this felt...illusory. Not real enough. And it hurt - for a moment she wondered if something was wrong with her and that was why her mother wouldn't respond when she made offerings.

Once she had that thought the dream faded, and she slept without any more.

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

She woke to the sound of a knocking at the door, and groaned.

"Are you awake?"

"I...I am now." She sat up, yawning - momentarily forgetting where she was and feeling a stab of panic.

Then she remembered. And that was Ulen calling, he must have been outside the door all night. It was a strange idea, but...she supposed she might get used to it.

When she had dressed in another robe of the same kind she'd been given at Kogoruhn she called out that Ulen could come in.

"And you slept well?"

"Well enough...it was...different, not waking up to bells. Or hearing shouting from sailors...or gulls. I'm used to being near the water."

"Yes, things are quite different here."

He seemed to have brought a meal with him - some kind of ash yam porridge which she ate quickly.

As she was finishing up Ulen said, "Your father would like to see you in the Heart Chamber."

Her skin tingled with some nervousness. Of course he'd want to see her there, she'd said she wanted to go with him.

She saw the dovahfly in the corner of the room on top of the wardrobe as she looked awkwardly about the room. It seemed asleep, but when she said "hello" in an effort to distract herself from the off feeling she was having it perked up.

"An interesting creature," Ulen said, "Where did you find it again?"

"Where...Sotha Sil died. I think he might've used it to carry messages or something. It was probably locked up in there a long time with nothing to do...maybe it assumed I would give it orders or paper to carry?"

Ulen watched the dovahfly for a minute, but said nothing.

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

Haj-deek tried to look anywhere except at Gilvoth as she walked along behind Ulen.

She didn't know why, she just felt afraid of him on sight. And those words - those words, they echoed in her head.

Stay gone, and I will keep your secret.

What did they mean?

Had he said it to someone else? As she passed through that next door she wondered if he had said it to her mother.

...stay gone, and I will keep your secret...

Her thoughts were immediately cleared, though, by the sight that lay before her.

She vaguely remembered parts of standing around the Heart. Around Dagoth Ur (the building) here and there. But nothing she had in her head had contained the sight of that huge construct before her now.

Haj-deek didn't even notice her father, she was so overwhelmed. What brought her back was the tapping of the dovahfly against her skin.

BE...and then the double tap of NO.

Be, no...

"It is quite the sight, is it not?" her father's voice sounded off.

"It's...it's huge..." she said in awe, "What--what even is it?"

"Akulakhan," he replied, "Perhaps you have read of Numidium?"

"Oh, so it's another one." She'd read vaguely about that--she'd taken a job once mending fishing nets for some imperial sailors and they'd been talking about it. So she'd asked, and what they'd said had lead her to read more about it later.

"It is not simply another. It is BETTER."

"Why is it better?" She asked. And then fearing he might be upset by that response she quickly added, "I mean, what have you done that makes it better?"

Something about the edge of the rock or platform or whatever it was made her feel - weird. She had the vague feeling she'd fall over, and hung back - looking instead of the head of this Akulakhan.

"Is it done yet?"

"It is not, no. It is proceeding at a reasonable rate, but once I have Wraithguard it will go much more quickly."

He lead her down the incline. The farther she walked, though, the more intense the thick air felt. For one uncomfortable moment, she felt the thing would - fall into the lava, and take her with it.

She kept quiet. The dovahfly sunk its legs into her hair around the tie she'd put in - perhaps feeling the same way.

Once Haj-deek stood before the bridge, looking directly at the Heart - there again came that feeling she had been here before. But that at least she remembered better than the rest.

"It's creepy," she said suddenly. "The beating of the heart, I mean. It's...it's..."

"This is the heart of a god...it is only natural for it to be unsettling."

"That, and...and the legends all say it was ripped from his chest. The nords in Ebonheart say the 'elven giants' were afraid of his power and tore his heart out...to make them afraid."

"How you could bear to listen to them long enough to let them get onto the subject, I know not." Dagoth Ur made a noise almost like a huff.

"They're just...nevermind." She was about to say they were just people, but remembered at the last second Vivec's lesson on the war with the nords. Of course her father would hate the nords. Just as he hated imperials, and the Tribunal, and anyone else that wasn't a Dunmer, and...

"Just what?"

"It's nothing," she said quickly.

He doesn't like anyone, does he? Haj-deek kept her eyes forward, and on the Heart. I shouldn't mention the nords to him, then...he didn't seem to mind me talking of the argonians, but they raised me, so that was doing him a favor. But then again if I say I like any of those other people...he might say they poisoned my mind...

After a few moments of thinking, or at least trying to think, she spoke up again. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, so she couldn't just stay quiet.

"They're only people," she said. "It's not their fault they are what they are, is it? They can't help it."

(Was it the Heart? She could swear she hadn't been this jittery BEFORE coming down here where the Heart was.)

Not for the first or last time did she then wish she was still just Haj-deek.

"You enjoyed their company, then?"

It was an innocent enough question. A little awkward sounding. At the same time she wondered if she was hearing it wrong and he was actually upset with her but trying not to show it.

"They were nicer to me than most of the Dunmer were," she said, "Even the imperials were--"

"An imperial would betray you as soon as look at you," Dagoth Ur said suddenly, and with venom in every word. "Do not forget that. They are stealing our people's land out from under them and you should not trust them or what happened with Almalexia will happen with them."

"You don't trust anyone, do you?"

It came out so quickly she couldn't stop it.

"When every open hand has been struck and every turned back stabbed - you would not be a trustful person either."

"The sailors," Haj-deek, struggling, finally found her voice, "They have nothing to do with the emperor, they're just doing a job."

She was about to say she trusted the Imperial sailors more than she did most Dunmer back in Ebonheart but decided against it. He would already be mad enough at her, there wasn't any need to make it worse.

"Your mother," Dagoth Ur said, in a very much unexpectedly softer tone, "Said something very much like that. That the lower ranks should not be held responsible for the actions of their superiors."

"Well...well, they shouldn't."

Along with the fear there was an odd sort of bafflement. How did he not see?

Then, a new thought. If her mother had tried it, it was best not to take a similar way when SHE spoke to him...because clearly, it hadn't worked for her mother.

She went quiet.

"I will say to you what I said to her. You simply have not the ability to see what I see - every Imperial plays a part in the crimes the Emperor wreaks upon us, and so every Imperial is an enemy."

It was difficult to keep her mouth shut after that one. He seemed pleased she was listening to him - that was the principle thing, that he believed her and why she wanted to be there. She had to act this way so he would trust her.

But she would not contribute to it.

You are wrong, Haj-deek thought. She reached into her pockets for something to grab hold of - and found that chunk of bone she had taken from the Dagoth tomb. She squeezed at it with a trembling hand.

Dagoth Ur crossed the bridge leading to the Heart of Lorkhan, and she followed him.

In her hair the dovahfly seemed to be bearing down--there were pinpricks of pain in her head where its legs were and she reached up with her free hand to rustle it so it would stop.

The Heart's beating went on and on endlessly. It looked like a big red rock, but the pipes it was linked to gave a metallic sound to the constant pulsing.

The Heart of Lorkhan.

The source of all this ill. The reason her father and the Tribunal were at war.

The reason I even exist, she thought suddenly. There was the slightest of chills under her skin then. The thought went on - she wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the Heart. She wouldn't even be a twinkle in her mother's eye - a saying she'd heard some of those back in Ebonheart use of their own children.

Free the Heart from its prison. Something Vivec had told her was said to the Nerevarines. Something she vaguely remembered Azura saying; whether to her to to her mother she didn't know.

He didn't stop her from walking forward, from laying a hand on the rough surface.

There was a sting of pain but she kept her hand on it, thinking maybe it was just a cramp or something. Then another, and she felt whatever-it-was Vivec had given her burning beneath her skin.

Am--am I meant to use it on the Heart? she wondered suddenly.

Why hadn't he told her? What if she used it on the Heart and it turned out bad? What if...

She wished she had someone to guide her, someone to explain. Just some direction, even a vague one.

But there was nothing. All she had was herself right now. She tried to focus on the Heart. It took a few seconds--a few very long seconds--but she started to feel something.

Anguish.

The Heart was horribly sad about something. Or maybe it was echoing everything that had happened around it?

A footstep behind her.

"It's sad about something," Haj-deek said, laying both hands on the Heart now (on a whim tucking the chunk of Morvani's bone since he couldn't see it directly. She wondered for a moment what a healing spell would do. The tingle in her fingers started up, and the pain stopped.

Friend, she thought, I am your friend.

But she felt then what she'd seen when Sunchaser, beaten and broken on the ground, had looked up at her. Everything else faded away in that moment.

The feeling of looking down at one who expected her to be their end.

Release the Heart from its prison, the words repeated in her head. End its suffering.

The Heart of Lorkhan is the heart of the world, for one was made to satisfy the other...

It was like sand or ash, drifting or blowing in her mind, endlessly going into the void.

Vivec had told her what would happen, should she follow Azura's plan. The Heart would go, and all protection they had with it. The volcano gone, the "Red Tower" destroyed, whatever that meant, a LOT of people would die.

To do what Azura asked would harm untold numbers of people.

I want to save them, she thought, But I don't want to hurt YOU.

"Is it speaking to you?"

"No," she said, "It's more of a feeling. It's...it's afraid."

"It fears the return of the Tribunal, I imagine, coming to attack it with the tools of Kagrenac, to steal its power."

Haj-deek had to bite her tongue to stop herself asking the obvious question. Isn't that what you want to do, to power Akulakhan?

"Maybe it fears being alone more," she said, "Does anyone talk to it?"

"Why should they do that, if it won't answer?"

"I don't know." She shifted on her feet. "It feels like somebody ought to give it a hug. You were all by yourself in here for how long...didn't you need company too?"

There was a lengthy pause.

Had it never occurred to him?

"You can speak to it, then, since you have felt so much from it. Myself - I don't believe I ever have."

Were you listening? she wondered.

"Aside from fear of the Tribunal, of course."

"Maybe it was aware you hated them anyway...maybe it didn't think you would be interested in talking? I don't know much about these things."

There was a slight sound like an exhale. She couldn't really tell, from the sound of the Heart beating in her ears.

"It is fortunate, then, that I am the god."

"Of course." She replied automatically. He seemed to be in a good mood, but she felt her own sinking quickly.

At least he believed her to still be a naive child. Given everything that she still had yet to figure out it was best to maintain that as long as possible.

"What--what are you going to want of me while I'm here?" she stammered slightly. "I'd like to learn more spells, but I'm...I'm an atronach sign, so I'll probably be slower at it."

Dagoth Ur paused as if thinking.

"I have already thought of that," he said, "Either Gilvoth or Ulen can teach you--"

"Ulen," she said automatically, and then when she saw that swift turn of his head she added, "It's just that he'll be watching me anyway, it's easier."

"Would you not prefer to be taught by your own kin?"

"It's not that," Haj-deek replied, twisting her hands together, "It's only that I thought he would be busy with whatever else you have him doing. I don't know what he does, I just thought it would be more important, seeing as how you're...you know, and he's..."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I don't think he likes me."

"He may still be laboring under the impression that you are some sort of pretender. It has ever been in his nature to be suspicious of everyone. It was why, before the Tribunal betrayed Nerevar and I, I had appointed him the spymaster of House Dagoth."

"And what--what of me? What am I good for?"

"That is what we shall find out. Perhaps you will take to music, as your mother did. Perhaps once I go conquering the rest of Tamriel, I may appoint you the guardian of the Heart. It all depends on what I find to be your strengths."

That thought of him conquering Tamriel put a pit in her stomach. People already feared him, and that...well, she decided to try not to think about it. There was enough to worry about without adding more on. That hadn't happened yet and it WOULDN'T happen, if she had anything to say about it.

At first she'd been worried, but now - despite the fear - she felt a certain sort of victory. Clearly he thought this was going swimmingly. If he were this easy to fool, surely she could figure out what to do with some more effort?

"I've always liked the idea of being a healer," she said, "Before...back in Ebonheart, before I knew what and who I was I thought of being a healer and alchemist. I really just wanted a place of my own - so I thought if I made myself necessary, it would be easier to find it. There's always injuries in a port town."

"You have your place now. If healing is your interest, I can have Ulen and perhaps some of the ash poets focus on that. With the increasing number of adventurers rushing in here to prove themselves to the false gods or seek treasure they have no hope of laying their hands on, we have the result of numerous injuries to those of the Sixth House."

He talks too much, Haj-deek thought. But I guess if I didn't have anyone to talk to I'd be like that too.

"Now," her father said suddenly, "I want to go over one thing I DO expect of you."

"What?"

"You will not leave without at least Ulen at your side," he said, "I lost your mother because she thought she was safe. I will not lose you as well."

"That means I can't go anywhere that's not inside the Ghostfence or maybe to Kogoruhn," she said. "Kogoruhn I think I'd like to visit again sometime soon."

"Do you find me so dull?" There was something of humor in his tone, so she didn't feel too shy about replying honestly.

"Well, no, it's just there's no water here, and Kogoruhn is at least close to the ocean." Haj-deek shifted slightly. "I've been near water all my life, it feels...it feels weird, not being able to hear the gulls, or see people out on boats. Even in Vivec City there was water...and I could see farther than at Ebonheart."

"Then once I am victorious we shall sail from the ruins of Vivec."

"But until then we can't do very much."

"You sound just like your mother," he replied, "She was a fair sight bored here, too...which for a bard, I suppose I understand. She was used to much more of a crowd than I, seemed to miss having others to entertain."

"A bard needs a crowd." She shrugged, and sighed. "I wish I could see her in person. You've--you showed me her in a dream, but...but it's not the same, I think. It would be like you dreaming of punching Vivec in the face...it'd be satisfying but not as good as in person."

Dagoth Ur laughed heartily at that. "You are right! That is a pleasure I reserve for the waking world. But perhaps you may soon see your mother."

"How--how do you mean?"

Did he have her mother's ashes?

"Your mother still wanders the Red Mountain region," he said, "As a wispmother, I believe. We know she is out there, but - unfortunately, I believe she may have the wrong idea about my intentions."

"Maybe she's afraid," she said, "Someone told her to stay away from here, so maybe she thinks you're angry with her?"

"What?!"

Dagoth Ur grabbed her by the shoulders and she lowered her head.

"Who told her that? Tell me!"

"I don't know!" she burst out, not daring to look up at him. "I just know somebody did. I just had the memory g-go through my head...was all, and I...and I..."

He let go of her.

"Do you remember where she was when she heard that?"

"I think inside the Ghostfence," she said, and then on a whim added, "Maybe it was someone from the Temple? 'Stay gone, and I will keep your secret.' It could be they found out about...about me."

"But why not go back to Kogoruhn?" he asked, not really speaking directly to her. Then, after a little more thinking, he said, "I have--you have given me much to consider. Speak to Ulen about your lessons while I arrange for your mother's return."

Ulen had stationed himself at the door above and when she mentioned that her father said he could instruct her in spellwork he seemed to perk up.

"Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to be of use in that sphere. You will never be without my company, but a young woman should know how to defend herself from vile bandits, rogue adventurers, and the like. A good paralysis spell is the perfect place to start."

"Won't it hurt you? I'd have to practice on someone." She was glad of the distraction, honestly.

"No, no, of course not. I have felt much worse than a tumble to the ground." He gave a nod and several of his face trunks rose slightly.

"...well...we should get started then, I guess." Haj-deek took a deep breath. "Here, or somewhere else? Oh, and...I hope you have potions. I'm an atronach sign and paralysis spells always look like they take it all up."

The day was spent in practice, and while by the end of it she still hadn't manage to paralyze Ulen entirely, he was kind enough to note his face felt numb and thus she was already making good progress.

"Lord Dagoth might say it is his blood that sharpens your skill, but whatever effect it has still must be held by your effort - and your attempts are very admirable. That is all I can ask, that you do your best."

That at least put a smile on her face.

[dagothurthegod]

I need some help,my nails are too fragile and tear like oversoaked kwama eggshells, or split down the middle up into my flesh.

I want nice nails, long, painted red like i've seen yours in my dreams.

How do i get mine to grow strong and healthy? I want to scratch outlanders outside of ald'ruhn

Ensure you read the entire process before taking any steps.

You must take a hammer of ample heft, some protective garb as well for the inexperienced, and go into the brush away from the towns and the noise of the busy folk. Here you will find an Ash Hopper; cover a skeever’s or some other small to medium sized mammal’s hide in a Meadow Rye and Ash Yam oil mixture, of about 2:1 ratio, to bait a hopper if you have difficulties finding one. The Ash Hopper must be slain and its Chitin removed. One can pry and dissect the individual platelets free or use brute force of the hammer to smash and break free as small fragments the creatures exoskeleton, the condition will not matter post mortem.

This Chitin is to be ground into a fine powder, outdoors or near a window so that it is in the light of the setting sun. That night, and for the next 3 nights, you must leave the powdered chitin in a window where it may soak in the light of the stars and the moons, and cover it with a thick cloth early before the sun rises to obfuscate daylight from its form.

After 3 nights of exposure and days of coverage, you will mix 2/3 of this powder into bone meal, the source of the bone is of little import. This will be consumed over the next 3 consecutive mornings, so plan your portions ahead of time.

Take the remaining 1/3 of ground chitin and place it in a brass vessel, along with offerings for spirits which will aid in this endeavor. Preferred offerings, different types of herbs, oils, meats, etc. vary greatly among Houses, and even more so if you are not Dunmer. Depending on which spirits are being invoked to achieve this outcome, different localities and familial lines may prefer different herbs, oil, meats, etc. Be sure to consult outside help if you are unsure as to what offerings you should add. An oil is recommended to aid the chitin in burning.

A tablet of clay is then to be taken, no larger than a sheet of paper and no smaller than a personal identification card, and inscribed upon it is your command and wish to the spirits and celestial intelligences alike. Be succinct and exact, with the outcome clearly envisioned in your mind, and hold onto this vision during the entirety of the inscribing process. Once all is inscribed, the tablet is to be placed beneath the vessel, then the contents may be lit; The words inscribed on the tablet will be said aloud in a calm, confident, and well annunciated manner, as the contents of the vessel begin to burn.

When the burning is complete, the remains will be taken outside with the tablet. Both will be buried 1 1/2 to 3 feet deep in the earth, with the burnt remains being placed on top of the tablet in the ground, and upon this spot is where the bone meal must be brought and consumed, in the early morning light of the rising sun, for 3 days until it is all consumed. You should notice the effects within a week or so.

Or you could take a small daily dose of biotin, I’m not a cosmetologist and, to be quite honest for you, and think my own unusual set formed as a natural side effect of my unyielding bigotry, hope this helps!

[sunriseverse]

what are your favourite things to cook?

to be honest literally anything that has Far Too Many Steps u_u but as someone born in shanghai but raised by northerners i fucking Love noodles i will eat noodles so much. noodles not being merely "long thin grain-made product" to be clear. i fucking Love niangao (i think it's called like. rice cakes in english?), traditional noodles (lamian, niuroumian, etc), dumplings.........................i deeply enjoy making the noodles or wrappers from scratch and putting all the fillings/toppings/etc together on my own..............................that said i also really enjoy making desserts! coffee cake and sütlaç (turkish rice pudding) and yuebing/mooncakes (to be fair i make the knockoff mochi version. because i am a disappointment to my family and don't like the traditional kinds. would love to make ice cream ones one day too i still dream of the mango and peach ice cream yuebing i had once as a kid).................also a big fan of making bread, especially poaça (type of turkish roll that's somewhat similar to challah in terms of density/texture). also love cooking with meat! and i like roasted whole yams (cook on low for like an hour so they caramelise).

probably the only things i Don't like making are western dishes lol. basically anything else is fair game!