Angus rose to greet the dawn. Some days, he rose to greet the pre-dawn, but most of those were during winter. He loved mornings. The birdsong, the colourful sunrises, the promise of a fresh new day… and of course, greeting all his coworkers in the Bureau of Balance.

The reclaimers shuffled by, headed for breakfast after what looked like an early morning meeting. Madam Director slotted herself into the queue behind Angus, who allowed THB to have early access to anything they needed. First off, because Reclaiming was a really demanding and dangerous job. Secondly, because it was a bad idea to get between Morning Taako and his coffee.

Merle had Taako’s hand on his shoulder, pulling the somnambulistic Elf onwards while Magnus steered him from behind. Together, they piloted Taako towards his first coffee.

It was quite the spectacle. Taako refused to be awake before noon if he could help it, and valiantly attempted to remain asleep during any hour marked with an AM. Thus, he pointedly remained in his footie pyjamas, with his hair in pigtails, and any concession towards wizarding work was in whether or not he wore his gaudy wizarding hat and carried his Umbrastaff. Neither were present today as Magnus guided Taako’s hand towards a big mug, then held the big mug under a stream of night-black coffee until it was two-thirds full.

Next came the part that always amused Angus. Magnus removed a single spoon of sugar from the bowl whilst Merle tipped most of the contents into Taako’s mug. They would then stir for him and throw away the stirrer before Taako’s reflexes made him accidentally stab his own face with the thing.

Sip. Swig. Gulp, gulp, gulp… Taako’s hair frizzed up, causing the braids to lift up as they tightened. Half a cup downed, Taako surfaced into consciousness. “FU-HUCK…”

Too late, Madam Director put her hands over Angus’ ears. “Taako!” she chided. “There’s a child present.”

Taako now had the motive power to top up his cup. “You fuckin’ called th’ gods-damned meeting at fuckin’ five.”

“It’s okay, ma’am,” Angus begun.

The hands remained. “Like it or not, Taako, you’re a role model for this boy…”

“Five. In the. Fuckin’. Morning.” Taako repeated. “I’m’a find who invented it and kick their fuckin’ ass.” Gulp, gulp, gulp… and another top-up.

“I’ve heard all the words before, ma’am,” said Angus.

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

“Five. AY EM. This fuckin’ time of day? All I do is drink coffee and say bad words.” This time, he downed the cup. “Azmodeus’ tits, I need more fuckin’ sleep than this…” He refilled his mug over the caffeinated sugar slurry trapped in the bottom and let Magnus stir for him lest he add even more sugar.

“We’ll feed him the good muffins until he’s got a better attitude,” Magnus promised.

Merle, already on that one, was loading up Taako’s plate with some of the more gourmet selections from the breakfast muffins. “I think he’ll be fine after the fetta, salmon, and olives one. He likes those.”

Angus finally disengaged Madam Director’s hands and said, “You should probably let him sleep later, ma’am. He’s plagued by bad dreams and night terrors.”

This earned him an elegantly sculpted and raised eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“I’m his protege, ma’am. He takes me out on survival lessons. I -uh- hear a lot on those nights.”

She nodded. “I’ll endeavour to keep that in mind.”

Angus had the feeling she’d committed it to memory before he’d even mentioned it.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 6]

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They’d only been passing through. The town was large enough for an overnight stay, but not big enough to fund a week’s performance. Those who had more portable acts were free to gather what coin they had as the wagons trundled through. Which was why the twins were away from each other when the fire happened.

Lulu didn’t do it, for the record. The old tinker Mad Darmigan made a fatal and effective mistake with his collection of black powder. After that, all the other fireworks in his workshop made everything more complicated for everyone else.

La’ming left the caravan, taking one of the horses, riding pell-mell for where she knew Koko was cooking up a storm from whatever the crowds had to offer. Dry thatch and crumbling wattle-and-daub caught like tinder, and it was an inferno by the time she leaned in the saddle to scoop up Koko in one arm.

She tried to find Lulu. She really did.

The fires were too hot. Upper stories were falling into the streets. The only choice was to flee. Save what she could. La’ming kept a guarding arm around Koko’s eyes and let the horse run until it could run no more.

“Lulu? Where’s Lulu?”

She stood in the saddle, trying to find any sign of life in the inferno that had once been a sleepy little mountain town. Trying to see any activity at all in any of the multiple paths out of that town.

She could only see fire, but shielded her heart-son’s eyes anyway.

Despite his ninety-some years, he was starting to cry. “Where’s Lulu? You haven’t said. Where’s Lulu? Is she okay?”

She sat back down and held him close. “I can’t see her. We know where the circus was headed, though. We can make our way there. We’ll know then.”

He tried to put on a brave face. “Well shit. We better get there before Lulu burns it down as we–” his voice cracked. Stopped working.

La’ming let him be weak. She could be strong for him tonight. She could keep the horse walking tonight. They could sleep and rest tomorrow. Pick up all their shattered pieces then.

*

Someone scooped her out of the market square on one of the circus draught horses. Indeed, the poor creature was still dragging their caravan behind it. Mak’arune was at the reins, urging the massive beast on.

Lulu, now sprawled across her lap, didn’t even have time to complain before whistling bursts of colour ignited the surrounding buildings and turned the whole street into the Plane of Fire. She untangled herself quick. “KOKO! Mak’arune, we gotta find my bro!”

Mak’arune held her down with Bigby’s Hand. “I’m looking for him, love, but we’re getting out of here on the way. I’m sorry. There’s no time.”

A burning piece of debris spurred on the horse where the reins would not. pitching them both back in the seat.

There was no sign of Koko anywhere. Just lots of people in a panic.

They were headed to the ford, likely to splash up water and put out any cinders. “No, wait, the ford’s flood–”

Mak’arune wasn’t listening and neither was the horse. They nearly got washed downstream from the rushing water and then, because the horse was still in a panic, nearly tipped off the side of several cliffside curves.

Finally, a combination of exhaustion and decent brakes got them slowed to a walk.

Lulu was up on top of the caravan, shouting for her brother in instants. Smoke had made her voice rough, and she couldn’t call for him more than a few times. The caravan came to a halt in a green field, and Mak’arune clambered up to hold her.

She hadn’t even been aware she was crying until Mak’arune had her in a soothing grasp. Her knees went out and she felt weaker than ever.

“We’ll find him. If we don’t, we’ll find out what happened.”

“I didn’t do it,” she found herself sobbing. “I was just playing music…”

“I know, I know,” Mak’arune cooed. “Ssh… I know, I know.”

“I’m supposed t’ look after ‘im… Thought ‘e’d be okay…”

“I know. We all did. You two are almost adults…” she didn’t say, you keep telling us. Tonight was not a night for the blame game. “We’ll find him when we find the rest of the circus. It’s going to be okay.”

Lulu didn’t want to run an Insight Check that, even though she could hear how badly Mak’arune was at lying. Just for tonight. Let lies be truth. Let the strong be weak.

Tomorrow… Tomorrow, they could start over. Tomorrow, they could pick up the pieces. Tomorrow… she could look for the other half of her heart.

No problem :D I love getting asks and rambling on when I should be working.

It is very, very easy to blend loves when you have multifandom obsessions. See: numerous crossovers.

When it comes to blending music and fiction, I’ve… always despised badly-written songfic. When I say “badly written”, I mean someone’s copy-pasta’d the lyrics into a document and added what amounts to their stage directions for their fave characters with little in the way of flavour or emotion. Therefore, I avoid that shit like the plague.

I can, have, and will use various fitting lyrics as a combo reference/goof, and do advise that practice for others. It’s fun. Especially when it’s spotted by others.

Music inspires. It helps some of us (points to self) focus. Sometimes it also distracts (points to self). My ASD may be comorb’d with AD(H)D, I can’t tell for sure.

Back to the point…

There’s large swathes of Helpless that just don’t fit. As far as I’ve written, Agatha doesn’t have a sister or siblings [like Agatha Heterodyne, who she’s named after - see what I mean about blending loves?] so the bit about the sister won’t mesh.

Choruses and refrains, though? Look into your eyes and I’m drowning in ‘em… is a definite win. 10/10, would use that lyric five-ever.

Judiciously sampling the right lyrics is always win. I mean, I’m the goober who wrote Unexpectedly Deadly just so I could have that Mr Brightside goof in there. Also as a PSA to fucking vaccinate everyone who actually can be vaccinated, please and thank.

And in closing - if a set of lyrics gives you a rampant rabid fic idea, then write that mofo. Do not let yourself be embarrassed about the quality or lack thereof. Be proud that you made a thing. Then make a better thing on the next round and be proud of that.

I’ve been writing weird stories since -yeesh- age five to six. I’m forty-six now. Everyone has to start somewhere and maybe this is your call.

In brief: (One of us-style chant) Do the thing! Do the thing! Goople gobble, goople gobble. Do the thing!

[AN: Wishing you well in your battle with the panics. May your happies at least quiet the little beasties down]

Angus McDonald, age six and a half, woke before the alarm was about to go off and, just in time, reached out to silence its musical chime. Papa hadn’t even entertained getting him a mechanical alarm with its harsh and frightening bell. That sort of thing brought back too many bad memories and Papa understood.

That was one of the reasons why he was doing this. One amongst very many.

Glasses on (he had the freedom of vision whenever he wanted it) slippers on his feet and bathrobe over his pyjamas (no more cold floors leaching heat and sensation from his toes) and gathered his clothes for the day (he had a choice, no more grey, thinning clothing that did nothing against either the chill or the heat) and padded off to the bathroom to wash. No more rough treatment from Nurse Stronginthearm. No more tepid water that smelled of carbolic and pee. No more harsh scrubbing sponges. He could take his pick of soaps and washing instruments, he could linger and luxuriate in bathing if he wanted to. But he chose to be quick and efficient, this morning.

This morning was parents’ day.

Washed, dressed, and the bathroom tidied up, he crept down to the kitchen and started gathering tools an ingredients. Two cookbooks, one scroll copied from Fantasy Youtube, and some of his own notes.

He was going to make his parents some lava cakes for parents day.

Angus had to melt the chocolate in a double boiler since Papa wouldn’t touch a Fantasy Microwave with a Barge Pole of Reaching. That was okay. He knew how to do that. Even for two batches of ganache. One hazelnut praline for Papa, and the other dark chocolate blood orange for Dad

Once they were ready, he poured them into the ice cube containers and popped them into the freezer. While they were cooling, he washed up and got the cake moulds and batter ready.

That was from one of Papa’s best cake recipes. The Choc-o-licious cake. Working on that batter took all the time he needed to have for the ganache to freeze.

Problem. The Fantasy Youtube video hadn’t told him about greasing the ice cubes tray. It took some serious twisting and at least one count of taking a cube out of the tray in small fragments.

Papa always said to use the happy accidents. Therefore, he stirred the little frozen chips into the batter and hoped for the best. One Choc-o-licious with the hazelnut ganache. The other with the dark chocolate blood orange. All set carefully into the right place in the Aga for cakes.

So far, so good. Sort of.

Angus cleaned up and peeked into his parents’ cote. They were still snuggled under the covers. The dawn light had yet to creep into Papa’s eyes and force him into consciousness.

It was so tempting to just crawl in there for a small nap, but he had cakes in the oven. Therefore, he went back to the kitchen with one of his favourite Caleb Cleveland books, and nearly burned them.

Which was why he wasn’t thinking when he smelled burning. He ran to the oven and pulled the tray out without first putting on an oven mit. It burned! It fell. Hot cake mess spattered all over the place and then Papa blinked into the area.

He stepped on the hot tray and in boiling-hot lava cake to scoop him up and then hurried him to the nearest bathroom. Cool water soothed Angus’ hurts and a minor potion of healing solved all the injuries.

Angus was still crying. “Your feet. I hurt your feet.”

“I’m the one who stepped in the hot stuff, bubeleh.” He finally ran his own feet under the cool water and downed a potion of his own. “See? All better.” Papa scooped him into his arms and purred. Soft and gentle and reassuring.

Angus still felt bad about the cakes. “I wan’ed to surprise you with a cake each an’ I was makin’ you some special lava cakes and I almost burned them and I didn’t mean to hurt myself an’ I’m so sorry…”

Papa rocked him. “Hey. Hey, little man. Hey. Hey, listen. It’s okay. We all make mistakes. It’s fine.”

“It’s parent’s day,” Angus sniffled. “Wan’ed t’ do somethin’ special.”

“Hey,” said Dad, who came in to see what the fuss was about. “You know what’s more special than cakes in bed?”

Sniff. “What?”

“Cakes made together.”

Once all hurts were healed and the damage undone via Prestidigitation practice, Taako surveyed Angus’ plan. “Not some bad invention, there, little dude. Good job putting it all together like that.”

Angus started smiling again. “Really?”

“Yeah, you did some good detective work there.” Papa gave him a hug and a kiss. “Want to learn the best way to do a ganache?”

Cooking together with Papa and Dad was the best. Papa knew every trick about cooking good food and showed them to anyone willing to learn. Dad and Ango grouped together as apprentices.

They learned a lot that morning. Including that ganache lava was best with ice cream.

“Thanks for being my parents,” he said.

“Thanks for being our kid,” said Dad.

“Without you, we’d have no special occasion to have cake for,” added Papa.

After that, the best part of the day - snuggling with his parents for a lazy day in. All cuddles and kisses and comfort.

[TAAZ Prompts Remaining: 9]

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Bless. May your panics be easily dissipated.

To the Nonny who sent me this - it would normally take me nine days to get to this. You okay with the wait?

I know games you can play with your panicky side, having made an agreement with mine. Well. Most of an agreement. Long story.

Games you can play to help calm your panics:

• What’s actually most likely to happen?
  
• If you can’t do anything then what’s the point of worrying?
• Make it funny [I drew a bunch of comics over on my Instagram about some of this]
• Create something based on the thing - whatever your skill set is, turning your terrors into a work of art is surprisingly cathartic
• D-I-S-T-R-A-C-T-I-O-N! Give yourself some busywork nonse task to keep your mind from drifting into the panic zone. Or listen to some podcasts to give your brain something to do rather than fret

Stay strong, dear Nonny. I will get to your prompt eventually, but do let me know if you capital-N Need it, and I’ll disrupt the usual queue.

Short Answer: Depends on the universe.
Long answer: This -

Canon Compliant

Angus McDonald baulked the instant the light spilled into the old tunnels. Agatha, her hand in his, felt his pulse jump. She crept forward and whispered, “Bad guys?”

“Worse,” Angus whispered. “Cobwebs.”

She peeked, looking in at what their dark lantern revealed. She leveled a glare at him. “Cobwebs scare you?”

“Not the cobwebs. The spiders that made them.” Angus felt compelled to add, “I don’t make fun of you for hating big heights.”

Young Angus Verse

Agatha noticed that Angus’ breathing quickened as they stepped into the confines of the tunnel. She whispered, “Claustrophobia?”

“Kind of,” he whispered back. “I told you about the orphanage I started in, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a lingering thing with small, dark spaces…”

Agatha understood. This was just like her lingering thing with small and fast insects. “It’s all right. There’s a way out the other end and we have a dark lantern. It’s going to be okay.”

He focussed on trying to breathe. “Sorry if I squeeze your hand too tight,” he whispered.

Circus verse

“…werk,” mumbled Agatha, pulling away from the edge.

Angus, used to the trapeze and the tightrope since practically infancy, looked over the edge. “Yeah, that’s a long way down. There’s a ladder. I could carry you…”

“…werk,” she repeated. “This is worse for me than thunderstorms are for you.”

“You be in one wind-tossed caravan once, and then argue with me,” he countered. “It’s okay. The ladder’s in good repair. I’ve never slipped in all my years. You’ll be fine.”

Agatha kept her eyes closed and clung tight all the way down.

Baby Birds AU

Angus shrank away from the table and the bowl of black-to-brown things that was one of the feast options.

Agatha, who’d taken him as her plus one on this mission, leaned closed to his ear and whispered, “You okay?”

“…looks like mould,” he whispered, breathing fast. “I hate mould. I’ve always hated mould.”

“These are butter-fried mushrooms,” she whispered. “They’re tasty. I promise they’re good.” To prove her words true, she speared some and set them on her plate, taking a cut and eating it. “See? It’s good.” Agatha offered him a tiny sliver. “Want to try?”

It took him ten deep breaths to brave a taste. Just like it had for her to try jellied eels.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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[AN: Aaawww, bless. May the clerical errors in your favour remain perpetually unnoticed]

It began in the dark, with Lucretia noticing Taako paying more attention to Angus McDonald than she expected. Taako was so much colder and more aloof from any social contact than she was used to. Of course he was. He was now in a state where he believed he had never had anyone or anything he could rely on.

Yet there he was, feeling the brow of Angus McDonald and looking concerned in the darkness of the theatre.

She leaned back and employed ESL[1] to ask without disturbing anyone else, Everything okay?

Taako also leaned back so he could sign, Thought sickness. Boy(mine) taught not purr.

Oh shit. Oh shit, that was bad. Xenophobists of all kinds used all kinds of cruelties to teach halfbreeds to avoid any behaviour of their ‘bad’ half. Taako’s very abbreviated grammar meant that he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but… She had to get involved.

This is bad, she signed to him. Bad for head, bad for health, bad for him all through.

No duh, signed Taako. Me easy hate humans about this. He still wanted to keep this low-key. Lucretia could understand.

We should talk to him. We should teach him.

Taako signed,  You can, in a dismissive way. He noticed the way she stared at him and added, Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.

Lucretia signed, You know the most about being Elven. You’re already teaching him magic. Why not teach him about himself?

Not my kid, his fingers said. The rest of his body telegraphed that that was a blatant lie. But only to those who’d known him for a century or more.

Lucretia couldn’t call him out on his bullshit based on that aspect of her past, though. She could sign, Not what you said a minute ago.

Now it was his turn to glare at her. He knew he’d claimed ownership with the brevity signs he initially used. Such were the subtleties of ESL. He fumed for a while and signed, Not son. Apprentice.

Lucretia signed her acquiescence. An economical gesture that meant, As you will. She kept her suspicion to herself. Even now, with the damage she’d done, Taako was wont to form bonds with others. Especially others who were abandoned, forlorn, or simply without everything they may clearly deserve.

In other words, waifs, strays, bastards, and broken people. Angus qualified on two counts and now counted for a third.

She signed, We must discuss this with him.

Taako added, After scroll. Child(mine) needs small fun.

Not his kid, her aunt Fanny. All of Taako’s denials were pure, unadulterated, horseshit. He might as well have adopted the kid outright, but wouldn’t because it would harm ‘his brand’. Maybe when all the fuss was over, there might be the hope of Taako actually giving Angus a good home.

*

She checked up on them for their first Elf Practice. IN Angus’ favourite reading nook, in a pile of pillows, Taako was dozing and purring in a sunbeam with Angus propped up against Taako’s middle.

She could hear Angus clear across the library. That was some ‘engine’ he had going. Lucretia readied a speech about being impressed with Taako’s teaching capacity as she crept closer.

As she approached, maintaining a quiet tread, she noticed several clues. The aroma of hot chocolate, the way Angus preferred to have it. A few remaining sweet curd cakes, laying neglected on a nearby plate. The place where they lay, right in a sunbeam, had all the pillows arranged for maximum comfort.

Under the thunder of Angus’ purr, Taakos’ ran almost a counterpoint. Soft and soothing and continuous with his breathing.

His purr said more than any of his most of his lies ever could. He was, indeed, feeling parental towards Angus. How that would play out given his voidfish scars could be… problematic. She would be keeping a watchful eye out on them, simply because of that.

Taako’s uppermost ear flicked and a hand moved to lazily sign, Bug off.

Lucretia involuntarily signed, Peace, despite the fact that Taako wouldn’t see it. She whispered, “Lessons going well?”

Angus’ eyes were open. Watching her intently, as he watched everything intently. His hands moved. In forms and shapes coherent with ESL. We’re doing fine, ma’am. I’m looking forward to more lessons, later.

Lucretia had to roll a will save not to freak out.

[1] Elven Sign Language

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 7]

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The twins flourished in any environment that was away from the orphanage. The further they got from those chilly, urine-soaked and mould-infested walls, the healthier they got.

Which was part of the reason why Carey and Killian bid on the old, Elven farm in the first place. It was a run-down old place but the Mountain Ygdrassi that was the main building was still alive and the estate grounds held some promise of being returned to beauty.

What they hadn’t expected was the wards that prevented most people from inspecting the interior, or doing anything related to renovations. But that was another story for another time.

The twins breezed through the wards as if they were nothing but early morning mist, and an investigation revealed that they were the legal inheritors of the house, mountain fastness, estate grounds and all. Which was another story for another time[1].

The good news was that Elven wards recognised that family wasn’t always genetically related, and that love bonds overwhelmed legal ones. Therefore, once the twins trusted their new, adopting parents, they too could pass through the wards without trouble.

Of course, the paperwork was so much slower than that. Demanding visits and inspections and reams upon reams of forms to fill, bureaucratic hurdles to leap, and red tape hoops to leap through.

The twins were almost seven, and spending less and less time in the orphanage. This would be their first complete year in the care of Carey and Killian Fangbattle.

The good news was: the twins were getting used to having people who cared for them and wished to keep them.

The bad news was exactly the same as the good news, because both Lulu and Koko could be up to anything whenever they were quiet.

Carey and Killian both got accustomed to the noises of children. Which screams meant “I’m legitimately hurt/in danger,” and which ones were screaming for the sake of screaming. Which levels of crashing cacophony were worth investigating and which ones were simple horsing around.

They were still learning about what a hazard Being Quiet was.

Killian had taken a few Stealth lessons from her lovely Dragonborn wife, and used them as she looked for their kids. They had been entirely too quiet for entirely too long, so it was way past time to check on them.

She found them in the Big Kitchen, one perched on the other’s shoulders, and the higher twin at just the right height to raid the cookie jar. Which was exactly what they had been doing before she found them.

She folded her arms, anticipating a rain of horseshit from her boys[2] in just a few seconds. “You two do know that those are for treats and not meals, right?”

They froze, Lulu with one cookie in hand, Koko halfway ready to bolt.

“We can explain,” said Koko, hurriedly.

Killian nodded and said, “I can wait.”

Lulu, a step ahead of his brother, started putting cookies back into the jar. “We didn’t want to bother you,” he said.

“We’re used to foraging for ourselves, y’know?” said Koko. “We’ve only been in the orphanage for like a year, so…”

“Also we don’t know your plans for the stuff in the pantry,” said Lulu. “Or the ice box[3].”

Wow. That was almost plausible horseshit. Killian was impressed. “You are allowed to ask if you have any ideas for cooking a nice meal. Your mom and I could even help.”

The last of the cookies returned, Lulu put the lid back on the jar. “We… we’re -uh- we just…”

Koko sighed. Slumped a little in defeat. “We wanted cookies, okay?”

They flinched in unison, anticipating any number of things that the asshole side of the family had done to them before they became runaways. Killian didn’t let her anger towards those unseen Elves show on her face or in the way she moved.

“I know,” she said. “Everyone wants cookies. The thing is, you two need more than just cookies to eat.” She hugged Lulu off of his brothers shoulders. “It’s okay to ask for stuff, okay? We’re here to make sure you grow up healthy and happy. In that order.” She scooped up Koko into her other arm. “Okay?”

Koko was the more likely to be depressed about things. He was a natural pessimist, an attitude only enforced by the sheer volumes of suck that had landed on the both of them since they were practically babies. “…we’re never getting cookies,” he mumbled.

“We didn’t say that,” said Carey, entering the big kitchen. She wrapped her lithe, blue-ish arms around all three of them. “Cookies are for after a healthy dinner, okay? That’s the rule. Your mama and I can follow it, and so should you.”

Killian carried their boys over to the Aga that nestled in the ancient hearth. “Since you’re hungry, how about we cook up a Mess together? Everyone picks an ingredient and we try to make it work.”

Smiles won out on their dappled faces. Koko went for the honeycomb and Lulu went for the chillies. It looked like tonight was going to be another Sweet’n’Spicy Mess for dinner.

[1] See Over the Meadow and Through the Woods… for the basic shape of it.

[2] My headcannon is that Lup/Lulu wasn’t aware of her true identity before age 10. In this universe it might even be age 8. Either way, she has neither realised nor told anyone yet.

[3] What people had before they invented refrigerators.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 8]

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