There were certain advantages to living on the moon. For starters, the regular threats couldn’t get to them. Second, Kalen had no idea where any of his favourite targets were. Third…

“There’s a fucking Fantasy Olive Garden on the MOON!”

None of their patchwork family had seen Taako flip out like this about a restaurant. In fact, they’d never seen him excited about anything related to food since -well- since Glamour Springs.

“Fantasy Olive Garden?” said Merle, who missed the drama in Glamour Springs. “Really?”

“Shoosh,” advised Mak’arune. “This is good.”

“It might be the best,” said Angus.

“I didn’t know you were into Fantasy Italian,” said Magnus.

Taako said, “I’m always a slut for pasta.” He was looking at the Fantasy Olive Garden like someone who was looking at paradise. “And those bread sticks… hmmm…”

The rest of the patchwork family looked at each other with speculation in their eyes. They had a plan.

So, too, did Madam Director, who had added the Fantasy Olive Garden to the moon base five seconds after she heard about Taako’s difficulties with food. It took a special kind of genius to know how to use someone’s weaknesses for the greater good.

…the kind of genius it took one hundred years to create…

Taako watched their adopted son going around in circles. Anxious or excited or just plain not wanting to go to sleep because the previous order of things was disrupted. It was easier to watch than trying to chase the kid down for sure. It had already been a long-ass day and he was personally too worn out to do extra pre-bedtime calisthenics.

Ango was obviously tired and just as obviously too stubborn to admit it. Going around the place in circles because keeping his body moving kept his brain awake or some shit like that. Taako, now a grown-ass adult, was more than a hundred years from that behaviour or those levels of energy.

How had his poor mother survived himself and Lup racing up and down the stairs on the twilit summer nights of Tre-Llew Ddion? No wonder she handed them off to Uncle Ench at summer’s end. They must have plain worn her the fuck out.

No, that was unfair. His whole family had secret weapons. Loggy foods. Pre-bedtime treats that were guaranteed to nail a kid down, stomach-first.

Taako smiled, leaving Angus to his orbits, and got out the kid-stopper ingredients. Sweet-pop fritters. Whipped cream, natch. The family recipe for hot chocolate… Flour, milk, cream (doy), honey -Ango was old enough for honey, but still too young for processed sugar- maple syrup, cocoa, maple sap, drinking chocolate, maple crystals, malt… herbs and spices…

Taako set up his prep station so he could keep an eye on Ango. All these recipes were the sort that could be put down in a second or less if an orbiting kid managed to trip and fall or otherwise hurt themself during their extended shenanigans. He seemed fine going around and around, but Taako wasn’t about to take any chances.

The thick, rich fritter batter was loaded with the nicer spices. Nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, and just the right zing of ginger, then peppered through with small cubes of green apple, sweet corn kernels, and a generous handful of raisins. A dash of just the right amount of maple syrup and they were ready to become fat golden blobs in the deep fryer.

Taako started the milk warming up. More cardamom and nutmeg, less ginger and cinnamon. Cocoa, of course. Malt was the new secret ingredient. The old one, Taako recalled, was a carefully-measured spoonful of medicinal rum. Not allowed in this day and age, no matter how medicinal it claimed to be. He sweetened the whole thing with honey and added a dollop of cream for richness before he began whipping the rest up for garnish, sweetened with the slightest dash of maple sap.

Once the fritters were fried on both sides, Taako let them drain and dry a little on Fantasy Paper Towels before dusting them over with a sparkling of maple crystals. This was magic enough to lure his boy to the kitchen counter, where wide, dark eyes watched the ordinary magic of meal prep in progress.

Long years in Sizzle it Up! gave Taako the knowledge of just the right amount of horseshit to add into the presentation. So when he plated up, he not only added some whipped cream flowers to Angus’ two middle-sized fritter blobs, but also some sparks from his Prestidigitation.

The hot chocolate was strained into Angus’ favourite mug, loaded with pink marshmallows and topped with more of the cream. It also got a light dusting of drinking chocolate.

It was better than a Sleep spell, and far more enjoyable to boot. Ango was nodding before he got halfway through his second fritter. Those freshly-sticky fingers of his were the perfect segue into tooth-brushing and bath time.

A warm bath, with the white noise provided by the bubbles, had Ango floppy and complacent before the last button was done up on his fluffy, flannel PJ’s. Taako purred as he carried their boy to the big family cuddle cote.

“…w’nna wait f’r daddy,” Ango complained muzzily.

“I know, pun’kin,” Taako cooed. “Daddy’s havin’ a big adventure and we can’t be awake the whole time. ‘S bad for your health.” An idea came to him like a brilliant new recipe. “How about I teach you a way to get the same rest faster so you can be awake for longer? Would you like that?”

“Mm-hmm…”

Ango would probably fall asleep on the first attempt… and maybe up to the tenth, but it was worth a shot. Little half-Elves didn’t Trance as easily as the full-blooded ones. It all depended on how dominant his Elven side was, actually.

Taako helped him sit properly and taught the correct breathing rhythm. He got it straight out of the tin, brilliant lad. Next, guiding him into the meditative state of mindfulness and memory. This was where, according to the clever souls who wrote all those books, a half-Elf was most likely to slip into sleep.

Ango defied expectations and lifted off of the cushions of the cote for a solid minute. Of fucking course Taako took a Fantasy Polaroid of the event. Then, he fell into slumber and Taako guided him down into a comfortable sleeping position, tucked in with a warm, fluffy blanket and weighed down by one of the cats.

Gods-damned adorable.

Taako scooted a little away so he could Trance peacefully. When he came up -and floated down- Krav was just entering the cote, crawling inside with exaggerated care. They smiled at each other in recognition of the Parental fear of waking the baby.

“Hey, Dove,” Krav whispered. “Sorry I missed bedtime.”

“I got him rested anyway,” Taako whispered in turn. “I’d better be big spoon so our baby can see you when he wakes up.”

They enjoyed a good, long kiss before Krav settled down. As he got comfortable, he murmured, “What is in those fritters? I thought I was bone tired before, but… you could knock me out with a feather.”

Taako snorted at the pun. “Ancient Elven secret,” he said, playing with Krav’s hair. “Get some rest. I’ll watch over us.”

Krav didn’t need much more convincing. Those fritters packed a punch.

Angus first sensed trouble when he felt Papa’s hands go cold. Papa froze bare seconds after that, so it was relatively easy to deduce that something big was amiss. 

Dad noticed too, and said, “Dove?”

Papa pointed a shaking finger at a humanman in a bookstore. He was waiting to sign books with his face on them and the title, Wrongful Evidence. There weren’t a lot of people buying it.

“Let’s… let’s go another way,” said Papa.

The man at the bookstore had other plans, and called, “Taako! Taako, come on over! Let’s settle this like adults.”

Papa muttered, “Gods damn it…”

Angus said, “Papa? What’s wrong?”

“Just… someone from my past, honey. Someone I thought I trusted…”

Angus had a few memories of the Story and Song. Well, ones that stuck in his head, at any rate. He did remember that trust was a huge deal for the Twins of the Starblaster. For someone to lose Papa’s trust… that had to make him a bad man. Angus didn’t like judging prejudicially like that, so he looked out for any other evidence of misdeeds or chicanery.

One: The way Papa greeted this Humanman. “Sazed,” he said with a chill beyond the arctic. “Got your spotlight at last, it seems. In a way.”

Two, the finer print on the covers of Sazed’s book: One man’s fight against a prejudicial legal system in his own words. Angus opened a copy on the table and started speed-reading. He mentioned a place called Glamour Springs. That was one of Papa’s nightmares, Angus recalled.

Papa still felt bad about something that had happened there.

Fortunately, there was a true crime display nearby and Angus could take more books to speed-read so long as he was within sight of Papa or Dad.

It didn’t take him long to find all the errors in Mr Sazed’s book. For starters, the forty deaths at Glamour Springs was only glanced at in there, but the other books never left out a single detail. One book even had complete autopsy reports.

When Angus came up for air, Papa was radiating icy fury and Dad was all but threatening vengeance in hushed yet civil tones. “Excuse me, sir,” said Angus. “Papa? Dad? I believe I’ve found some flaws in Mr Sazed’s key arguments.”

Sazed glared down at him and tried to loom. “You’re a baby,” he said. “You can’t even read.”

“On the contrary, sir, I can and have read five books on the topic of Glamour Springs. You weren’t declared innocent, nor exonerated for mass murders, but your trial was put on hold until sufficient evidence could be gathered. I have that evidence here.”

Papa’s frosted anger eased into soft, putty-like adoration. “That’s my boy,” he whispered. “That’s my beautiful genius boy…”

Angus placed five books in a line. Anatomy of a Massacre, The Ghoul of Glamour Springs, Minds of Monsters, Deliberate or Disaster, and Mr Sazed’s own Wrongful Evidence. “Mr Sazed’s trial was put on hold because the evidence in the Story and Song is not legal evidence and only holds to Papa’s character with all his memories intact. That part is regrettably true. However… Anatomy and Deliberate both state that wizards who transmute food always focus on the taste. Which is why Papa’s -and I quote your book- ‘stupid chicken tricks’ always involved the cooked product rather than the raw meat.”

Papa started to relax. Dad started radiated pride. Mr Sazed started looking nervous.

“Since Papa has never tasted arsenic, even within the Century of Stories, I find it suspicious that the people of Glamour Springs perished due to arsenic poisoning.”

“Nightshade,” corrected Mr Sazed. “It was nightshade poisoning. The elderberries were transmuted… and Taako’s certainly tasted nightshade.”

“Only during the Century, and that episode was documented and retold,” said Angus. “Papa had no memory of the Century during the years when he was running Sizzle it Up! sir. That was definitely well-known, especially in view of Papa’s genial attitudes to people during his decade incognito.”

Now Mr Sazed was looking really nervous. “Er,” he said.

“Further, the symptoms of arsenic poisoning only resemble the symptoms of nightshade poisoning, as described in Minds and Ghoul. There are distinctive differences between the two, and the victims of Glamour Springs all perished from Arsenic, and the evidence is very plain. Therefore, we have a large number of poisonings, connected with the Sizzle it Up! show. There is definite evidence in all who died, including those found with elderberries in their pockets or hands. Papa could not have created arsenic in food, so that leaves anyone else connected with the show. That leaves you, sir, as the only viable suspect.”

The gathered crowd, who had come to watch the fracas between Taako and his ex-manager, were starting to glare daggers at Mr Sazed.

“Further, Papa had no motive at all to poison anyone, sir. You, on the other hand, were repeatedly witnessed requesting time in the spotlight and equal billing. You had a definite motive to ruin Papa’s show.”

Mr Sazed had a knife. That was when the Fantasy Mall Cops pounced. Angus might have brought up enough circumstantial evidence to resume Sazed’s trial, but a fresh, attempted murder was far more interesting.

Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 53 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

In this chapter: Kravitz joins the purr pile

Taako was making bread. Sweetbread, sourdough, wholemeal muffins with added bits, brioche… it had been a while since he’d had the time to really bake and there was something about kneading that was relaxing and mediative. Ango was seemingly occupied with some of the more harmless kitchen tools, wheeling things back and forth over the countertop.

That was what he had been doing until Taako caught him playing with some of the dough he’d set apart to rise.

“Yeah, I know. This looks like your fun colourful stuff, baby.” Taako gently separated the blob from Angus’ tiny hands, scooping up his boy into his arms. “This is hard to understand, nugget, but Apa’s not playing. Apa’s working.”

“Wanna play,” insisted Angus.

“That stuff has to sit quietly for a while. It’s in time-out,” Taako explained. “It’s having a nap so it can grow big and strong.”

“No naps!”

“No, you don’t have to have a nap…” Taako thought hard. How old had he been when Aunt Ques had welcomed his presence in the kitchen? It seemed like an everyday thing. There hadn’t been a memory of Aunt Ques when he wasn’t in a kitchen with her. Well, her and of course Lup.

His earliest cooking lesson had been mashing soft fruit, and he couldn’t recall if any of that product had gone into anything Aunt Ques made that day…

Taako mage-handed over some bananas  and peeled them, getting out another bowl in a long line of bowls and some tools that might be enjoyable. “You, my sweet little nugget, can help Apa smash up all these bananas.”

“Yay!” cheered Angus.

Taako gave his baby a butter knife. “Take a banana… and chop it up into this bowl.”

Angus was more wont to stab it within the bowl, but that wasn’t any skin off of Taako’s nose. It let him get on with kneading and rolling and pressing and portioning. Of course, when Angus was done with the cutting, he was allowed to graduate onto the mashing. The kid soon gave up on using the mashing wand, preferring to get gloriously sticky with his own fingers.

Ah, what the hell. They could probably do with some banana bread anyway. Or maybe banana cake. Cake would mean less stress for Angus, since there was less waiting for the dough to rise. Choco-banana muffins for sure.

Angus could sift flour into the goo, and ‘help’ stir. As far as Taako remembered, his early cooking adventures had been more about the mess than they had been about making anything to eat.

…he’d need another bath. Natch. That was no real bother. Bath time was fun and the stuff in the oven wouldn’t burn in the time it took to get one sticky little baby clean. Then it would be time to get sticky again with icing and decorating and all that fun stuff.

Lup had enjoyed making the cupcakes and muffins pretty, Taako recalled. Maybe Angus would like that too.

But that was hours - and about six more bananas away.

Tumbl'd 3: Forever TAZ - Chapter 51 - InterNutter - The Adventure Zone (Podcast) [Archive of Our Own]

In this chapter, a loudmouth bigot gets taken down by a seven-year-old

[AN: Sure. I’m completely fooled. 9_9 Rather than explain Kintsugi, I started posting it on AO3. Read the beginning here. More chapters as time and availability dictates]

Sometimes, you just need a break. A chance to get away from it all and chill. This place… This place looked perfect for that. Beautiful white sand, perfect blue ocean.

“Aaaw yeah. I could really use a beach day,” cheered Magnus.

“No need to tell me twice, broski,” Taako was already in his fantasy swim trunks. He took to the water like he’d been born in it, and was soon almost out of sight in the waves.

“Any chance he’ll drown?” grumbled Merle, the group’s unofficial Grumpy Grampa.

“Not likely, sir,” said Angus from inside the caravan. He was still changing. “Papa’s pretty adept at the water stuff.”

Mak’arune emerged in a neck-to-knee number with a superfluous peplum and stripes made out of flowers. Angus’ were floral trunks. “Big water,” she said.

Merle, too, was already in his trunks. “That’s the ocean. One of Nature’s true wonders. It won’t bite, but it can be tricky. You see that part where the waves won’t break? That’s a riptide. Stay the fuck away from that.”

Mak paddled with Angus in the shallows, staying the hell away from the riptide. Merle went in deeper.

Magnus shrugged and stripped down to his Fantasy Meundies and rushed into the water. He didn’t go out as far as Taako, who was using the waves to sort of push him towards the shore without ever completely coming in. Magnus kept his eye on Mak and Ango, making sure they were safe. They didn’t go in further than Ango’s waist and had a great deal of shrieking and splashing around.

Merle came to shore with a fish, which he stuck on a stick up by their campsite. He strolled back into the water and ducked under as soon as he could. He seemed to be having fun with it, whatever it was.

Taako emerged from the waves to show Mak and Ango how to make Dribble Castles. He watched Merle wander past with a collection of shellfish and other creatures, and washed his hands in the salty water. He set up the cauldron, but didn’t do anything to cook. He gathered firewood and put some water in the cauldron, but after that, it was giving instructions to Merle.

Magnus kept watch on Mak’arune and Angus. Their dribble castle was getting ridiculous. He waded ashore and said, “I think Papa Taako needs more help. Let’s wash our hands.”

Sure enough Taako and Merle were having their four PM argument.

“Your hands aren’t broken, and you obviously know your shit. Why aren’t you doing any of this shit?”

Taako said, “I won’t do it. I can’t let it happen again.”

“Let what happen again.”

Magnus, walking in on it all, said, “Glamour Springs.”

[Prompts remaining: 1]

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

Angus woke before dawn, a bundle of energy and excitement. Today was the day! He bounced on his bed until the light was bright enough to see, and rushed through his morning ablutions at maximum possible speed. There was one thing he couldn’t do, and that was the rest of getting ready.

He needed Apa and Dad.

Still in his PJ’s and bed socks, Angus scurried to the master bedroom. Apa and Dad liked to sleep in, but today was way too important. Dad was dead to the world, of course. Apa wrapped around him and purring in his sleep. Angus had more than half a chance with waking Apa.

He clambered up onto the big bed and picked a spot free of lurking limbs or body parts, then started jumping. “FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL! COME ON APA! COME ON DAD! FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!”

“…dunwanna go t’ school…” Apa mumbled. “…five more minutes…”

“Apaaaaaa… it’s time for me to go to school. I gotta get ready, come oooonnnn….”

Apa’s purr turned into a low growl. “Ango, baby. It’s…” he fumbled around for a timepiece and squinted at it. “It’s not even five AM yet.” He yawned. “Gimmie half an hour, m’kay?”

“Half an hour? But that’s forever…” Angus bounced even more. “I wanna get ready nooowwww…”

“MmmmnnnnNNNNGH…” Apa shoved at Dad. “Babe. Babe wake up. Babe! Up and at ‘em lazybones.”

“…mmh?”

“Your son wants us to get ready already.”

“My son?” said Dad. “Lemme explain some basic biology to you, babe.”

“I wanna get ready, I wanna get ready,” chanted Angus. “First day of school!”

“…i need coffee,” sighed Apa.

Dad sighed and lurched into a sitting position. “All right, Dove. I’ll get this little lad bathed and your coffee ready. You see to breakfast and the lunchbox.”

“…sch’l unif’rm’s inna top draw’r…” mumbled Apa, burrowing under the covers.

“I swear ‘e does that just to get in the extra kip,” Dad muttered, and then scooped Ango up. “Awright, young master. Let’s start the coffee before we have a bath, eh?”

Angus laughed and cheered, and almost missed the rude gesture Apa made with the one hand poking out from the bedclothes, which made the morning even funnier as Dad tried to distract him.

Morning chaos was always fun, but this? This was exciting too. Angus got bathed and dressed in his brand new uniform. Of course he helped Dad prepare the coffee. Apa was still in his PJs as he took his first cup.

Stronger than the love of the gods, blacker than the depths of space, and with enough maple sugar to sweeten the heart of Asmodeus himself. Bit by bit, degree by degree, Apa came to life. Which was always a bit weird because technically? Dad was the dead one.

Apa helped with the lunchbox. Angus selected the things to pack. Sandwiches, snacks, fruit… everything a small, yet growing magic boy needed to have a good day. And, of course, breakfast. It was a larger family affair in the big kitchen, with Aunt Lup and Apa having their ongoing sibling argument while getting everything ready and stealing each other’s ingredients. Dad and Uncle Barry could be relied upon to peel or chop things, but they spent most of their time admiring their respective spouses.

It was a great morning.

Apa picked out some super glittery clothes and readied his favourite deer saddle. They were going to ride in style. Angus grinned. He couldn’t wait to see the other kids’ faces when he came to school on a real live Elven Riding Deer! Of course Apa picked the one with the impressive antlers and the tack that included silver bells. Apa just adored showing off.

Dad could just take a portal if he wanted to, but he chose to ride with, this day. His mount was more… his work aesthetic, so he changed out of his fleshy look and went with his work look on.

“Think I’m going to knock ‘em dead?” Dad asked.

“Da-a-aad…”

“Only figuratively, babe.”

It was going to be the best day.

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for details on how to support this artist]

[AN: I think there was a prompted AU in which Angus was somehow a Taakitz baby so I’m taking it from there]

Angus Taakoson had had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. The forces of fate, fortune, and family were all against him. He kept hearing ‘no’, the cats kept avoiding him when they weren’t hissing and clawing at him, he had just discovered the Wards that pushed him harmlessly away from all the interesting places. Then, to top it all off, to make a wet, miserable day even worse, Apa served Angus a plate full of broccoli.

It smelled bad. All the cheese sauce and sparkling lights in the world could not make it smell better. Angus pushed the plate away and said, “Yuck! No!”

Apa smiled in spite of the plate of yuck and produced a plate of yum, Apa’s incredibly delightful Sweet Potato Mash. “Good little boys eat their food, Ango,” he said. “You can’t say it’s yuck until you’ve had some.” Instead of the yum, Apa put a tiny little bit of broccoli and a lot of cheese sauce on the spoon. “Try a little, and you get some sweet potato after.”

Somewhere in the blurry distance, Aunty Lulu said, “You can’t bribe or bargain with a baby, bro.”

“Yeah, like you got experience points in that,” grumbled Apa. He waved the spoon in the air. “Aaaaahhh?”

“‘Course I got experience points, I raised you didn’t I?”

Angus pinched his lips together and turned his head away. “Mm-mm!”

“Listen,” said Apa. “I can keep all of this as warm and as fresh as I like all day. Sooner or later, you’re gonna be hungry enough to eat anything.”

“NO!”

Apa was quicker. He popped the spoon and its horrible contents into Angus’ mouth so neatly that it all came as a shock. He could taste cheese, but he knew, he just knew that it had been poisoned with the horrible, horrible broccoli yuck. Therefore, so had he.

Angus screamed and wailed, thrashing all four limbs and tossing his little baby head as he fought against the torturous restraint of the high chair.

*

Seven heroes and their significant others were watching this performance, one up close and personal, where he had just received the world’s tiniest broccoli floret to the face at maximum possible velocity. Cheese sauce included.

There was a lot of giggling.

Kravitz was trying to be a stern Papa, but was rolling ones at the sight before him.

“What a big drama from such a little boy,” said Lucretia.

Magnus was in absolute fits, holding himself up against the closest counter and wiping tears from his eyes.

Merle was crowing. “How do you like it? How do you like it now, smartypants? Shoes on the other foot, boy…” He was referring one of the hundred worlds in which the Twins were turned into Terrible Elf Larva and he, Merle, was chief in charge of making them do anything related to their needs.

Taako calmly used the spoon to scoop the cheese-and-microscopic-broccoli-floret off his cheek and waited. Primed to pop it back in that howling baby mouth as soon as opportunity allowed.

Davenport, watching with the cats from a very safe high shelf, sipped his wine and said, “Why am I having flashbacks? Why am I having flashbacks?”

Lup, still giggling, said, “Oh, you know. Dad’nport.”

Barry said, “I’d either use Command, or just… wait a few weeks before introducing him to broccoli.”

At the mention of the hated word, baby Angus renewed his howling protest against that particular vegetable.

“I am not,” announced Taako, “going to lose a battle of wits to a gosh-darned toddler.”

[AN: Holy shit I missed this for so long AAAAAHHHH please don’t hate me, Nonny]

It was late, and Papa wasn’t home. Dad had kept Angus’ mind off it for this long, but the clock still ticked and the hours mounted up.

“Papa’s not back,” Angus worried. He had grown used to accepting the idea that new parents weren’t permanent and still feared that these ones would somehow vanish.

“Papa’s going to be fine,” said Dad. “I’d know if he was in danger. It’s way past your bedtime now. You’re in your pajamjams, you’ve heard your chapter…”

Angus couldn’t sit still, and couldn’t make himself be sleepy. He’d already had some of Papa’s guaranteed apple pancakes and better-than-a-sleep-potion hot chocolate, but he still couldn’t make himself rest. “Papa kisses me goodnight,” he managed, voice trembling. “He’s not here t’ kiss me g’night…”

“I know, pet. I know. Some missions take longer than a day, love. Papa loves you to bits, and he’ll be back as soon as he can. Uncle Barry and Aunty Lup are going to help him if he’s in danger… It’s okay…”

Sniffle. Sob. “…’m scared ‘nyway…”

Dad held him close and started humming. Rocking gently as he swayed back and forth. “Au clair de la lune,/ Mon ami Pierrot,/ Prête-moi ta plume/ Pour écrire un mot…”

Angus didn’t understand Fantasy French, but the melody and rhythm were gentle enough to remind him that his tummy was overful of warm carbs and at least some of his family was here. He blinked… longer and longer… every time he opened his eyes or woke up a little, Dad was still singing. Softly. Gently. Calmly. If Dad could be relaxed about Papa not being home yet, Angus could certainly try.

Blink… most of the lights were out, there was just enough light to give shape to the darkness.

Blink… one of the cats was making biscuits in Angus’ leg.

Blink… the same cat and three of its fellows were curled up on him and Dad.

Blink… Gold and green light in the dark. The familiar shape of Papa in the night lights. “Hey, pumpkin… I head you missed me.”

“…’s worried ‘bou’chu…”

A warm smile. “I literally can’t die, baby. Not for a whole lot more years. Papa’s safe. It’s all okay.” Warm hands in his hair. Warm lips on his brow. “Wanna get tucked in now?”

“Five more minutes?” he begged.

Papa settled down with him and Dad and about five cats. “Sure thing.” His purr was the secret ingredient, and the next time he opened his eyes, it was dawn… and both his parents were still wrapped around him.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 0]