[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]

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[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]

[AN: It normally isn’t, but I can make an exception with pressures on Taako’s brainspace]

He’d killed a town. Again. At least the survivors of Glamour Springs had been able to bury the dead and pick up the pieces. This was way, way worse. A whole down. Wiped off the map. That which wasn’t black glass or a ring of slag was ash.

He could wheedle his way out of it. He knew he could. He was a pro. If they’d killed that Kurtz kid (a literal child, he couldn’t know what he was doing). Or if they’d just ignored the scavenging raiders (and left a literal child to deal with slavery or worse. He’d been there…) and gone on with hunting down and stopping Cyrus…

He’d killed a town. Again.

All those families. All those lives. All those people.

They couldn’t even be buried.

Then, for an encore, the people who could have helped dragged his sorry ass up to the moon with two other chucklefucks. They could have helped, if only they could literally communicate what the fuck was going on. If he’d known…

If he could tell the difference between Elderberries and Deadly Nightshade on sight…

If he hadn’t cried out and gained the attention of that one archer…

If he wasn’t born with witch eyes…

It was so far down to the ground. He didn’t have the spell slots to run away. But there was still worse news in this shit sandwich.

He’d forgotten entire fucking war. An ages-long, seemingly endless war. Friends. Family. Dying in it, and he’d forgotten.

If there was any worse time to get a visit from Uncle Irma, it was now.

But Taako didn’t know that. All he knew, as the fever rose and his mental capacity shot down, was that he had to protect his family.

*

Taako was looking super-squirelly, searching through the four, tiny bunks as if he were searching for some lost ancestral trinket that was worth more than his soul.

Merle, finding him in the middle of his rummaging, said, “You okay, there, son?” and thereby learned that there was a very rare fourth aspect of luume’irma. Instead of the usual fight, fuck, or feed, Taako had gone to fortify. Which meant he was driven to protect and guard his family.

“Danger,” Taako said, and scooped up Merle faster than the Dwarven Cleric could blink.

The next thing he could make sense of, he was in some soft, cavernous space made out of mattresses. Someone had laid in supplies and there was one exit to a privy and the other–

“No! Danger!” Taako physically shoved Merle back inside. He had a dazed and confused Davenport under one arm and was frantically out of breath.

“Davenport?” said Davenport.

“Danger,” Taako repeated. “Danger.” He repeatedly set the two of them down, repeating, “Danger,” and, “Safe,” until they finally both sit put.

“Davenport,” sulked Davenport.

“Yeah, that kid’s deep in luume. Better to just sit down, shut up, and put up until he wears himself out.”

“Davenport,” he mumbled, still sulking.

Magnus had to be dragged in, half an hour later. He had made the mistake of attempting to fight an Elf deep in luume, and had been knocked the fuck out and tied the fuck up. Taako physically picked up Merle and mashed him into Magnus. “Safe,” Taako insisted. “Live.”

Merle cast Cure Wounds and Taako seemed happy. He left in the blink of an eye.

Magnus moaned as he came to. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Never mess with a manic Elf, kid,” growled Merle. “Now sit tight, play nice, and exhibit some patience. I’m not made outta spell slots, you know.”

Next into Taako’s collection was Madam Director herself. Stunned, but not unconscious. Meerle spent another spell slot on recovering enough of her hit points for passing normalcy to resume itself.

“Well,” she announced on her return to the waking world, “this is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

“I don’t know what got into him,” said Magnus. “He managed to overpower me and drag me into… this place.”

“The bedding depot,” said Madam Director. “It seems to be a magnet for Elves in Luume. They like building their own dens.”

“This has happened before?” said Magnus.

“Amongst our Elven population. Some PSA’s go around periodically about procedure… You missed the last one. I must update our administration protocols.” She crawled to a space by the entrance and waited.

Half an hour later, Taako entered again. Frantic. Out of breath. Hyper-aware and freaking out. He counted them all. “One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. One… two… three… four…” he pawed at they air twice. “Need…”

“I know what you need,” said Madam Director. “Come here, I can help…”

“Not safe. Danger… Danger…”

“Just come here. I’ll help you.”

He did, but stopped to pause at every other handful of seconds. “One… two… three… four…” paw, paw. He moved a little closer to Madam Director. “One… two… three…”

Madam Director pounced. Seizing Taako’s head with both hands. Her fingers found his ‘off switch’.

“Danger…”

“Ssh… Hush, now,” Madam Director whispered. “It’s all right, now. I’ve got you. Ssh-ssh-ssh-ssh…”

“Danger…” mumbled Taako, slowly slipping under. “One… two.. three… four…” Paw, paw at the air. “One…”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

Mismatched eyes rolled back. Luxurious eyelids closed. He trembled from head to toe. His breath shuddered. Then he slumped, purring softly, with his head still in Madam Director’s hands.

“There, now,” she cooed. “None of you try to get back out of here, he’s still aware of us. The slightest disturbance in his environment and there’s no predicting what he’ll do.”

“So…” said Magnus. “We just sit here until he’s done?”

“Davenport,” nodded Davenport. He offered a packet of chips.

[TAZ Prompts Remaining: 5]

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[AN: I’m still a highly distractible goofus. Sorry]

It wasn’t the first time they worked together. The two of them honed their teamwork on lesser, more fallible Bureau impersonators whilst they gathered data on the biggest and best network.

These people were eliminating threats to their organisation by picking off the kind of people who the Bureau would -well- head-hunt. The best, the brightest, the intelligent and the inspired. They had some way of creating bracers with the Bureau emblem on them that was nearly indistinguishable from the real deal.

Which meant, to Angus’ mind, that they had someone on the inside. Rather than start a round of Who Do You Trust within the Bureau, Angus and Agatha began a two-pronged approach to tracing the Bracers to their points of origin while Agatha, pretending to be working on a puff piece for the Midsummer Costume Rush, investigated all the people who did remarkable facsimiles of the famous Bureau Bracers.

Neither of those approaches found anything.

Agatha’s other role -as bait- was the one that paid off. The ‘nega-bureau’ sent another agent attempting to kidnap her, and she gave him another dose of her famous tea.

Zone of Truth took care of the rest. The ‘nega-bureau’ weren’t connected to the Bracers’ creation. They were connected to their investiture with the unique assortment of spells that made up their completion. Specifically, tracking.

Every Bureau Bracer monitored the life signs of a Bureau agent, where they were, and whether or not they sent an Orb request to the moon. When an Agent died, the spells were meant to send a signal to the moon to such an effect, and then prevent any further tracking.

These people had been obliterating the ‘further tracking’ part for themselves. They them paid adventuring parties, or sent their own, to recover the bracers of the dead agents. Which they then employed for themselves through clever spellwork.

Now they had an ‘in’.

Angus, working with Taako, re-invigorated the tracking spell, and their map filled with the location tags of dead Bureau agents.

Boyland. Magic Brian. Even Johann, who had never been in the field. There were hundreds of them. Hundreds more stacked in clusters.

“That must be their warehouse,” whispered Agatha.

Killian, looking at the map, was looking greener than usual. “When I get my hands on them…” It had once been her job to hunt down–

Former friends and family, allies and coworkers, who had gone mad with the Thrall of a Grand Relic.

She was looking at a map full of ghosts. Haunting her anew with their very presence.

“We have to keep a level head, here,” said Angus. “I know this is more than upsetting, but… we need a coherent plan.”

Which was, ultimately, the same plan as always. With the added bonus of Agatha’s Big Bangs to effectively cast Blindness over any crew in the warehouse.

The entirety of the Bureau of Benevolence, the Seven Birds, the Reaper Squad and the newly-named Team Smartypants[1] made very short work of the nega-bureau. Eliminating their field operatives with pinpoint precision before closing in on the warehouse.

Even then, it was something of a clusterfuck.

There’s a universal law that, no matter the size and collective levels of a team, they will encounter an opposing force that’s more than a little bit challenging. Even with mechanic-breakers on their side like Taako.

Angus was down to Cantrips when Agatha found her last Big Bang. “EYES!”

Whoomph!

After one of them, even Magic Missile could do some damage. And since he had a warning, he could pick off the nastiest of the nasties with even the lowest of low-level spells.

He even incapacitated a few of them with wedgies care of his Mage Hand. All because it made Agatha giggle. She had the most wonderful laugh. And the most devious mind he had ever encountered when it came to improvising ways to decimate the bad guys.

And the way her curls framed her face, and the depth of her eyes, and the way he felt whenever she was around and…

“You’re amazing,” he said.

And her lips were more intoxicating than any other experience in his life and she was kissing him back and he wanted to lose himself forever in the feel of her lips on his and her closeness next to him and her hands in his hair and the warmth of her in his arms and…

“GODS DAMNIT, SHE’S FRENCHING MY BABY!”

…oh fuck, Taako knew.

Then again. People could probably tell who rolled a nat one on their perception check.

“Taako, leave them alone. They’re in love. It’s special.”

Yup. Confirmed. Even Magnus could tell, and he was Mister Oblivious.

Angus stared into Agatha’s eyes, grinning like a fool in love. She had a similar expression on her lovely face.

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE THE PARENT OF THE GROOM!”

They laughed together at Taako’s histrionics.

“Guess we better help him get used to the idea,” said Agatha.

“Capital idea,” said Angus, and went in for their second kiss.

[1] Blame Magnus.

Insomnia nights were hell. Taako slipped out of the dorm he shared with the meat shield, the pervert, and the drug addict to catch some fresh air out on the Bureau quad. Well. Fresher than the dorm’s air, anyway. Less filled with farts, for certain.

He’d always felt slightly more secure when he was close to nature. None of it was Elven nature, it was one hundred percent knowing that he’d got away from the people who were after his head. Or his ears. Or any other body part. Cities were food security. Forests and greenery were personal security. And the twain had not really met on a permanent basis for ninety years of his fucking trainwreck of a life.

But here? On manicured grass and near sculpted trees, Taako was wondering if he’d set off any alarms by lighting up a little dandelion. On one hand, Madame Director turned a blind eye to Pringles and his potions, and let Boyland smoke those horse-ass cigars… On the other hand, people never really smiled on an Elf high on weeds.

“Dad! Daddy! No!”

Taako slipped the tiny clay pipe back into a pocket before someone caught him and whirled to face the very young voice of a boy detective in distress.

He knew that look.

There was no time to ponder how he knew that look. He just knew it. Night terrors plus disassociation plus one stinker of a nightmare lead to running around and not seeing reality, just yet. And the kid was headed right for one of the edges of the base.

Fuck.

Taako flying-tackled him before he could run right off the gods-damn thing. Suffered elbows and knees to places he much preferred a gentle caress from a willing adult. Rolled them both a little further away from the sheer drop.

And purred. Like a parent to a fussy child.

It was all he could think of to do for the boy. And if anyone heard it who knew anything about Elves, then they’d get a message that Taako wanted nobody to know. That he, Taako -you know, from TV- felt a familial protectiveness with this tiny, fancy lad.

It was entirely the kids fault. Lying about having a family and running a con on everyone around him so that he didn’t wind up in Fantasy Child Services and horseshit foster homes until he aged out of the system and they kicked him out. It was exactly the sort of thing that Taako had done when he was a kid. Taako had him clocked in a cold second with all that, “My grandpa forgot his name,” malarky.

And not wanting to admit he was concerned at all, because that went against his brand, Taako took the brat under his wing as a student. Which gave him a perfect excuse to make sure Ango went to bed on time and got himself some decent meals and had time to just enjoy himself and all that other crap.

And that now gave him an excuse to drag him backwards out of one rip-snorter of a fucking nightmare, by the looks of things.

Ango relaxed in his arms.

“There, now, meldavó. Ssh-ssh-ssh…”

Angus stiffened. “Sir?”

If Taako was good at anything, it was the nine-hundred-yard backpedal. “You had a nightmare and nearly ran right off the fucking moon, dumbass. I can call you anything I like.”

He was still staring into his dreams. “No! Don’t burn me!”

Fuck. “Hey. Hey now. This is another lesson. Breathe deep. Tell me five things you see.”

He blinked, seemingly looking at two Taakos at once. Though that was a good thought, a definite improvement on the world, one was a nightmare and therefore intolerable.

“Come on, Agnes. Five things you can see. Names. Chop-chop.”

“Uh. Sky. Other moon. You. Grass. Oh shit, we’re so close to an edge, sir.”

“Good, good,” Taako cooed, now focussing on carrying them both away from a five billion yard drop to certain doom. “I need you to name four things you can hear, now.”

“Um. Your voice? My voice? The levitation spell keeping us up. Um. And. The night pumps, sir.”

“Very good. You’re doing great. Three things you can feel. Name ‘em. And try for sentences, this time.”

He was shaking less. Breathing easier. “I can feel… you. I can feel the cool night air. Andum… I can feel your Umbrastaff vibrating, sir. It kind’a tickles.”

Huh. He swore he left that thing in the dorm. Yet there it was, hooked on his right arm like it belonged there. And it was vibrating a little bit. “Don’cha dare set fire to anything,” he muttered at it. There was a bench. He set them both down. “You’re doing fantastic, Pumpkin. Now open up those nose nostrils and name me two things you can smell.”

Angus sniffed. “I can smell petrichor, it’s just rained. And… I can smell the cafeteria warming up for the breakfast rush.”

Taako slipped him a candy. “And finally, one thing you can taste.”

“It’th one of your potht party peppermintth, thir,” said Angus around the sweet. “The one you take when you don’ want Madam Director knowing that you’ve had a few drinkth.”

And the other reason he wouldn’t admit he loved Angus was that the kid could be a right little shit at times. It made Taako’s black and icy heart melt a little. “That’s called a grounding exercise, kiddo. Sometimes, the ole noggin can run away with ya. When things seem to unreal to be real, that’s what you do. Five senses. Five, four, three, two, one. Last one’s always taste. First one’s always sight ‘cause the eyes can lie and y’ need more proof, dig?”

“You get nightmareth too, thir?”

“Fucking howlers,” Taako said. “That exercise helps. That, and pocket pudding.” He pulled out a handful of butterscotch flavour. “Want some?”

“Euw, thir. That’th grothth.”

“More for me,” he chirped, and started licking it off his hand. “If the night terrors are a regular thing, get’cherself a sleepy sack before you fall off the base. Not that I care, but it’s bad for the brand if my first apprentice jumps off the fucking moon.”

Angus, who no doubt read him like a book, said, “I’ll get one from Fantathy Cothtco ath thoon ath poththible, thir.”

“Great.”

Angus started chewing the hard candy.

“And remember to brush your teeth. Can’t have an apprentice with cavities.”

He picked at his teeth for a bit. “I know what meldavó means, sir. And I won’t tell.”

Taako didn’t say, “You better fuckin’ not.” Just sized him up, one small-time villain to another. Little shit had himself a bunch of better chances just by being so fucking nice to everyone. He knew the kid was playing him just as much as the kid knew that Taako knew it.

“Good,” Taako said eventually. And then, “Also don’t tell Herself that I’m smoking.” And, alarms or not, he lit his pipe.

[AN: meldavó - “beloved son” thanks to https://www.elfdict.com/]

[AN: An Ango kidnapping would probably end the same way as Killer Instinct with a traumatised Ango being cradled by a bloodstained Taako. I’m probably torturing my beautiful magic boy in another fic enough, so…]

The redolent smell of Ginger Garlic Chicken Soup filled Casa de Taako. For all that there were medicines, potions, and Clerics to help with any given illness, Taako still insisted that his ginger garlic chicken soup was all that anyone needed to recover from any disease known to intelligent life. Doctors everywhere hated him because he was more often right than wrong.

Taako had five humanmen going down with the seasonal sniffles, so he made sure he had the big pot all but overflowing with chicken meat, ginger, garlic, and assorted vegetables, and simmering gently for anyone who wanted to drag themselves towards the soup and help themselves. And he kept three bowls at optimal temperature under Covers of Preservation for the smaller ones in his house.

Something… snapped. Like a switch being flipped inside Taako’s head. Soup was not enough to feed his babies. They needed tasty, good, good food. Almost in a dream state, Taako started baking and cooking all the best tempting foods in handful-size servings.

One of the babies had found his leg. Poor baby. Poor baby needed comfort. Taako scooped them up and, using Mage Hand to keep the food going, cuddled the small humanman and purred for him.

Amber was more likely to come and seek help. Aloe was more likely to hide and cry. Taako got them both into the cuddle cote before he finished up the treats for the babies.

His Baby still needed his sleep. Safe with mate. Taako left supplies on a handy table and under a magic cover and went back to the babies. They were warm and miserable and needing.

They needed cool. They needed clean. They needed good, good food and all the comfort Taako could provide.

Even in the throes of Luume, Taako wasn’t a barbarian. He did not lick these babies clean. What he did have was an abundant supply of cool, clean water and plenty of towelling.

Keep babies comfortable. Keep babies safe. Keep babies fed.

Check on his baby too. Sleeping. Cuddle baby’s babies. Purr. Comfort. Coo.

*

Angus felt like shit as he dragged himself out of the guest bedroom. Taako’s soup and tasty treats had helped rally his resources, but now he wanted a large beverage and he really needed to pee.

The house was dark.

Ominously quiet.

And a lot more food than normal waiting under assorted covers.

Uh oh… Knowing Taako as he did, Angus checked the Cuddle Cote.

The fairy lights were on. And inside were Agnes, Aloicious, and Ambrose. Or, as Taako referred to them, Aglet, Aloe, and Amber.

All of them tangled up in each other and all stripped down to their underthings. There were still moist towelling washers scattered around them all. Agnes had intricate braids in her hair. Aloicious and Ambrose were spread across their ‘grandfather’.

Taako was distress-purring in his sleep.

Angus crawled up to him and felt his brow. Feverish, and not just the feverish effects of Luume. But the feverish effects of the latest winter flu.

“Hachi machi, you’re going to be feeling this one,” he whispered.

Luume knocked Taako sideways at the best of times. The flu was going to knock any remaining piss out of him.

Angus arranged his kids into a cuddle pile and ferried some of Taako’s panacea soup into the cote. Best not to move him. He might get snarly. The most he did was arrange Taako so that he could eat and drink without moving very much at all.

And then it was just a matter of waking Taako up every half hour and feeding him as much soup as he could take.

*

“Is grampa better yet?”

“C’n I tickle him?

“Let grampa sleep,” said Agnes. “He’s had a rough time.”

“Did he have a silly again? He had a silly when we were born.”

Taako, feeling like he’d been dragged backwards through a hedge that was somehow simultaneously on fire and frozen solid. His head hurt. His joints hurt. His fucking hair hurt. “Much though I love you all,” he croaked, “either shut up or fuck off. Pick one.”

“Grampa’s sick…” said Aloe.

Someone wiped him down with a damp piece of terrytowelling.

“I have some of your soup, sir,” said Agnes. “If you want, I can feed it to you.”

Taako cracked open an eye. Light hurt. Even the dim fairy lights of the Cuddle Cote. “Good baby,” he sighed.